


Tomorrow

by unn_known



Series: Tomorrow and Forever [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Character Death, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, POV First Person, Updating tags as I go, don't worry - it's not one of the 1D guys, it’s getting steamy now folks, one direction - Freeform, they're safe, tw: death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-09-28 06:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 71,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20421752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unn_known/pseuds/unn_known
Summary: Erin's band, Complete Irrationality, has had relative success States-side, so it's no surprise when they land an overseas tour that takes through most of Europe. They meet up with the other band with whom they'll be travelling - One Direction, of all bands - and Erin immediately gets a weird feeling when it comes to one of the members of the headlining group. Will this ruin the friendship forming between them all, or will it end up bringing them closer than ever?





	1. one

The rain pounded against the window in almost horizontal streaks, and flashes of lightning split the sky in brilliant streaks. Headlights appeared at sparse intervals, men and women leaving their lovers' homes before their partners woke up or people in search of something better somewhere else along the highway. I sighed and rested my forehead against the cool pane of glass, a bead of sweat slipping down my neck with the movement. The road stretched out toward the darkened horizon in an ever-thinning ribbon. With another heavy exhale, I shifted my seatbelt until I could pull my phone from the pocket of my oversized hoodie.

**To: Lambchop ** _Heyyy_

**From: Lambchop ** _Ho-laaaaa. What's up, boob?_

**To: Lambchop ** _Nothing much. Figured instead of being bored alone, I'd be bored while texting you :P Jem is being mean and won't tell me who this other band is going to be._

**From: Lambchop ** _Well Jem is a dick then lol. But promise to send me information and updates and pictures. You know how I go all crazy without my fav whore._

**To: Lambchop ** _I will. You're already crazy enough, don't need you going any crazier._

My phone vibrated again in my hand, but I ignored it in favour of unbuckling my seatbelt and stepping out of the van. Stretching my arms over my head, I turned my face toward the sky and smiled at the rain still pouring around us. We'd been in the van for less than an hour, but with four people sitting in close proximity of one another, the space had felt cramped and stuffy rather quickly. My spine cracked and popped one last time, and I brushed my dripping hair from my cheeks, shivered as a rivulet of cold water snaked down my back. Jem knocked on the passenger window and grinned widely at me once I looked back at him; I stuck my tongue out at him before making my way up the sidewalk and knocking on the door.

"I got it!" I heard a voice call from the depths of the house, and feet pounded down the stairs I knew were just inside the entry hall. The lock slid out of place with an audible _click_. "Erin, what the fuck? You're supposed to be on your way to the airport!"

I laughed as Amber hugged me tightly, disregarding the fact that I was soaked with rain. "Yeah, but as you can see, we had to make a pit stop."

"I'm glad you did! I didn't think I'd get a chance to say goodbye before you went and left me here all by my lonesome."

"Ha. I'm glad we did, too. I thought letting you see this gorgeous face would make the sting out of the fact that I made a rash promise that I can't keep." She raised an eyebrow, and I shrugged. "I won't be sending you any information."

Her lips turned down; she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the door frame. "But you... you promised! Why not?"

"Because there's really no point when you'll be right there with us. You're going!" I announced, giggling at her dumbfounded expression.

"_What_?"

"Go. Hurry up and pack! We have to be at the airport in less than three hours!"

She squealed and turned quickly, feet sliding against the hardwood floor in her rush. She flipped me off as she ran up the stairs more quickly than I had ever seen her go. Well, except for the time we were being chased by the cops, but that was a different story.

"So she's going?"

I rolled my eyes, buckled my seatbelt, and ran my fingers through my hair. "Yes, Brett, she's going."

The bassist nodded once, stiffly, and we resumed waiting for Amber to reappear with her stuff. Alan slid out of the driver's seat to help her load her suitcase and duffel bag into the back of the van; it took a few minutes to get her luggage situated amongst the six other suitcases, but eventually, her belongings were secured and they were both getting settled into their seats. Alan started up the van and pulled away from the curb. The windshield wipers swiped across the glass with an unwavering rhythm, and eventually, everyone besides the drummer and I quickly took advantage of the two-hour drive to the airport and dozed off. I stayed awake and stared out the window, watching as the black sky melted into a deep pinkish-grey.

Getting through security was a nightmare. Between the people who recognised ー mostly teenagers coming back from wherever their parents had dragged them to for vacation ー and the fact that the agents working security were far surlier than they needed to be, it was a slow process, but we made it to our flight right on time. We shoved our carry-ons into the overhead bins and buckled into our seats. The flight attendant gave her instructions before sitting down, and the plane started taxiing down the tarmac. Amber nudged me from her seat, but I chose to ignore her, pulling out my Kindle to finish reading the _Hunger Games_.

"Ow!"

A fluffy object had hit me in the face. I glared at my best friend, and she whistled innocently, readjusting her neck pillow. I rolled my eyes at her facade. Jem laughed and closed his eyes to sleep the next eleven hours away. A stewardess came by an hour later to pass out meals; I shared mine with Amber, as I wasn't hungry enough to eat everything I had been given. Flights had always upset my stomach and ruined my appetite ー something about being over 31,000 feet in the air in a giant metal tube with wings had never settled right with me.

We encountered some turbulence a handful of hours into the flight, and I regretted ever eating anything when my food threatened to make a reappearance. Amber clung tightly to my hand, though I was grabbing just as securely to her, until the plane smoothed out. I tried focusing on my books, even attempted to work on a new composition for the band, but my thoughts didn't want to settle down.

Finally, the flight was over, and, after a rather bumpy stop, we unboarded the plane, smiling politely at the flight attendants who wished us a good vacation, and hailed two taxis to take us to the hotel. We stumbled into the lobby at nearly two in the morning, and the staff members behind the large reception desk barely stifled their disgust at the sight of five dishevelled young adults wearing wrinkled, and very casual, clothing. Thankfully, checking in was easy enough. I followed the others to the elevator, leaned against the gleaming walls, and closed my eyes as the silence echoed in the square box. Jem unlocked the door to our suite and stepped back so we could file in; I ignored their talking and went to one of the closed doors, pushing it open and staring at the two beds inside. With a mental shrug, I toed off my shoes, padded over to the bed furthest from the entryway, and flopped face-first onto the mattress. A phone rang loudly from the main room, but I ignored it, burying my head with an overstuffed pillow, and fell asleep.

"Erin, c'mon, hun, time for food."

"Not hungry," I mumbled in response, rolling over on the bed and curling up into a ball.

"Fine. Coffee then."

I groaned at Jem's insistence on my consciousness, shoved myself up into a sitting position. "Fine."

"Thank you ever so much for your cooperation. Let's go."

Rolling my eyes, I rose to my feet and shuffled after him. Amber smiled at me when I appeared; I waved a hand in her direction and yawned widely. Thankfully, she was used to my behaviour when I was tired, so she just turned toward the others.

"Are you meeting the other band today?"

"Yup," Brett muttered from where he was standing by the door; his gaze never left the screen of his phone, and his tone made it clear that he was not pleased with my best friend being with us.

"Yay. I hope they're cute."

Alan and Jem didn't even look at her when they said, "I couldn't care less."

By the time we got to the restaurant ten minutes later, I was no less grumpy about being woken up, but now my head was pounding. Amber gasped at the decor of the building, and I could see Brett shaking his head to my left. Alan scanned the dining room before setting off toward two enormous tables pushed together in the back. Five males already sat on one side of the combined tables; I trailed after my friends and stopped when they did.

"Hey, guys, sorry we're late. We had someone who didn't want to wake up." Alan gestured in our direction. "As you probably guessed, we're Complete Irrationality. I'm Alan. This is my brother, Jem, and that's Brett and Erin. Amber's our tag-along."

The curly-haired boy at the end of the table grinned happily, dimples on display. "No worries! I'm Harry. Louis, Zayn, Liam, and Niall. One Direction."


	2. two

There was a small flurry of movement as my friends and I shifted around each other to sit; chairs scraped lightly against the floor when we pulled them out and scooted in, and eventually, the area around us fell silent. Amber's hand found mine under the table, and I glanced at her out of the corner of my eyes. Her cheeks were tinged pink, and her hazel eyes shone brightly. I knew she was excited about where she was sitting ー directly across from Harry. Alan sat to my right, Brett on his other side. In front of me sat Louis, and he smiled when he saw me looking at him. My lips curved upwards just a bit in response before I turned my gaze on the others. Zayn was in conversation with Brett; Harry laughed loudly, green eyes sparkling, as he listened to Alan tell Louis about how our band got started. Liam listened in polite silence as we answered his questions about us. Only the one on the far end, Niall, remained unspeaking the entire time, his head angled down as he, I assumed, read the menu. Suddenly, his head shot upward, and I was pinned by his eyes, startling blue and more intense than I ever could have imagined. I froze, and it wasn't until the server appeared at Amber's side that I was able to look away. No one else seemed to have noticed anything; I could feel my face burning hotly, Niall's gaze still heavy on my skin. I blurted out my order for coffee when asked and stared down at the table.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

I jerked my gaze up to see Zayn staring at me. "Uh, no," I replied after a moment, shaking my head and watching my fingers fidget with the edge of my napkin. "Not really."

"Until you get to know her; then she never shuts up!" Jem supplied with a chuckle; my friends joined in immediately, and I ducked my head back down.

My stomach churned, and though it was probably an unwise choice, I picked up the mug of coffee that had been placed in front of me and took a sip. My nose scrunched up when the heat of the drink scalded my tongue, but I stayed quiet. The rest of the group continued their conversations between bites of their meals. There was something pleasant, I had to admit, about hearing the people I cared most for laughing and making connections with the people we'd be with for the next couple of months. But as the time wore on, and they finished eating and focused on talking, I grew uncomfortable. I knew it was noticeable that I hadn't said anything since answering Zayn's question, which was over an hour ago, and it was most likely casting me in a negative light. I just couldn't force myself to talk; the words shrivelled on my tongue, and my throat was tight. So I just kept my mouth shut and counted down the seconds until we could leave.

Outside the restaurant, Liam turned to face us, expression serious. "Listen. Tomorrow is the first night of the tour. Remember, soundcheck at three, shows at seven and nine. Make sure you get plenty of rest tonight. We're all gonna need it."

"Yes, Daddy Direction," the other four of One Direction chorused, smiles on their faces ー even Niall's.

I bit my lip, taken aback by the sight of his grin. It was a carefree, contagious kind of smile, and a small piece of me screamed a desire to keep seeing it. His gaze caught mine, and his face fell blank again. It hurt, a harsh twinge deep in my chest, to see how quickly he could go so emotionless toward me, how quickly he had begun to hate me without ever even saying a word to me. Before I could dwell on it too long, Amber grabbed my arm and tugged me in the direction of the hotel. One thought ran through my mind, before her endless chatter drove it out of my head: What the Hell had I done so wrong already to cause him to detest me so much?

I barely got my hands up in time to catch the pile of fabrics that Amber tossed at me. She flashed me a fake smile and put her hands on her hips. "Put these on."

"What's so wrong with what I'm wearing?" I asked, confused as I glanced down at my jeans and T-shirt to inspect for any flaws.

"They're lame, that's what. Now change!"

I sighed but did as told. Though my worn-out jeans had become a bit threadbare through years of use, they were by far the most comfortable pair I owned, and my black Poison tee had been a staple in my wardrobe for years, which meant it was perfectly soft and moulded in just Right the ways. I wiggled a bit until the skinny jeans Amber chose finally slipped past my hips to settle on my waist, and I had to admit they weren't _bad_, just massively different ー I wasn't accustomed to having denim cling so tightly to every inch of my legs. I quickly shrugged into the blue-and-yellow plaid shirt, buttoning it up and rolling the sleeves to my elbows. Thankfully, she hadn't said anything about my lace-up boots; I'd begun playing in this band while wearing them, so I preferred it to stay that way. A knock sounded at the door before Brett poked his head into the bathroom as I was finishing tying my laces.

"You ready?"

I nodded and slipped past him. Soundcheck had gone smoothly that afternoon, and I couldn't have been happier with that. Amber slapped my butt when I made my way toward the stage; I grinned but didn't stop, following our bassist onto the stage. There was already loud screaming, fans of one or both of the bands excited for the show to start and not afraid to show it; my smile faded as my stomach twisted violently in my gut. My hands trembled slightly as I took my guitar from a tech. I couldn't return his supportive smile.

The set passed by in a blur; the only songs I would remember playing later were "Waiting on Someone", "Stars", and "Forget Everything". Judging by the cheering from the audience and my bandmates' jubilant grins, the show was successful. Zayn and Harry congratulated us as we passed them on our way backstage. I returned Liam's high-five absentmindedly before finding our dressing room quickly. Amber was sitting on the couch reading something on my Kindle. She glanced up when the door opened.

"How'd it go?"

"If you'd been there, you would know."

She scrunched her face at me, flipping me off, then turned her attention back to whatever book she was reading. I escaped into the bathroom as voices grew louder in the corridor outside. After hurriedly locking the door, I walked over to the sink and splashed cold water on my face. My heart was still pounding away rapidly against my ribs, and now that I didn't have my guitar to focus on, my hands shook even more. Sure, we'd played loads of gigs before ー hell, we'd even sold out a few places in America. But nothing had ever come close to our first show in London. The tens of thousands of screaming fans had been completely overwhelming, and a pang of fear zipped through my mind. What would I do if I couldn't get a grip on myself and make it through this tour?

"Erin? Y'alright in there?"

I ran a hand through my hair, checked out my reflection in the mirror. I sighed after a moment and turned to the door, pulling it open to see Jem on the other side looking concerned.

"Yeah, I'm great. One Direction on now?"

"Yep. We're supposed to get cleaned up and ready, because once they're done, they'll meet us at the merch tables for autographs and stuff."

I dipped my chin and stepped aside so Amber could squeeze past Jem. She handed me a pack of baby wipes and a bottle of shampoo before closing the door in our friend's face. After she helped me to wash my hair in the sink (and I regretted that choice when my back started aching from the position halfway through), I scrubbed every inch of my body with the wipes, doing my best to get the last bit of sweat off, and she wiped down my back while I pulled on a pair of clean underwear, dark-washed jeans, a pink knit tank-top, and a pair of black flats. I brushed my hair quickly then pinned my bangs back with white bow-shaped clips.

"You wanna watch the guys while the morons get ready?" Amber asked as she swiped some shimmery gloss on her lips.

I shrugged and let her lead me out of the dressing room, down the hall, and to the side of the stage. The fans were screaming even louder now, their singing and cheers more raucous than during our set, and I could see why. The energy that the members of One Direction exhibited onstage was incredibly powerful; I felt the urge to dance and sing along growing just in the minute or two I'd been watching them. Though they were moving around the entire time, their voices were still beautiful, clear and on key, and they never missed a beat. I glanced over at my best friend to see her lips moving to the words.

We were joined shortly after by Jem, Alan, and Brett. The sound and style of 1D weren't completely similar to ours ー we had more of a grittier, rock sound ー but there was no denying that our tour-mates loved making music, their faces full of joy as they sang their hearts out. Their set soon ended, and even I was a bit disappointed that there wasn't more, but I didn't have time to dwell on it as they made their way off the stage. We shifted to make a path for them to get through. Liam raised his hand for another high-five, and I laughed as I obliged. Zayn and Harry were grinning as we patted their backs and told them they were amazing; Louis, on the other hand, grabbed me up in a tight embrace and spun me in circles. I closed my eyes against the swirling colours and shapes around me, giggling until he set me back on my feet. Niall's smile dropped off his face the second he caught my eye. I chose to ignore it, too dizzy from Louis's antics to be able to spare a second thought.

Twenty minutes later, the other band exited their dressing room, and we walked in a large group toward the merch tables. I hooked my thumbs into the belt loops of my jeans and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Jem nudged me with his shoulder; his brows were furrowed, and I knew he was asking if I was okay. I nodded in response and took a seat between the twins. Taking a deep breath in an effort to steady my breathing, I glanced past the line of security and nearly threw up right then. There was a massive crowd of fans, all chattering and screaming various names. The way my stomach threatened to revolt by expelling its contents made me wonder why the Hell I thought this was a good idea. For as far back as I could remember, I'd always been shy, and that shyness had only grown over the years to full-blown social anxiety; my joining the band had been my way of attempting to overcome that issue. It worked for the most part while touring the U.S., but here? Not so much. Amber rubbed my back reassuringly before she headed off to the side of the room in order to stay out of the way for the mass of bodies. Once I had a Sharpie in hand thanks to Brett, I inhaled slowly and steadily and settled in to wait for the guards to step aside and let the fans through.

The lobby finally cleared of everyone except the bands and security, and I abruptly shoved my chair away from the table to put my head between my knees. I'd been on the verge of a panic attack for the last half-hour, my chest tight and body numb. My friends didn't seem to notice as they chatted amongst themselves about the show, and under the layer of absolute panic, anger sparked dimly, not fading even as I struggled to breathe and my vision blurred with hot tears.

"Oi, you good?"

Silence fell over the group at the question. Someone whispered _Oh, shit_ before warm arms wrapped around me and held me securely against Amber's chest. Her voice was soft but firm as she coached me to inhale, exhale, over and over until I began to calm down. I gulped in air and pulled away from my best friend, wiping my cheeks repeatedly with my hands. Harry and Liam were gazing at me, eyes dark with worry; Louis's bottom lip was caught between his teeth, but he flashed me a timid eye when he saw me looking at him. Zayn stared at the floor, and his hands fidgeted with a marker. Niall raised an eyebrow.

"What was that?"

"It's called a panic attack," retorted Amber dryly, her tone clearly stating that she thought he should have already known that.

"What caused it?"

I glanced at Liam then quickly looked away. "Crowd was too large."

"Wait. Let me get this straight." Niall chuckled. "You have anxiety, yet you became a musician? What kind of sense does that make?"

"Leave her alone, Niall," Liam ordered as he moved to my side to help me stand. "C'mon, lads, let's get to the buses."

Amber kept her arm around my waist as we walked out the back. My bandmates made sure to keep a barrier between me and the handful of fans who had stayed behind to watch us leave. Though I was still reeling from the incident inside, I forced a smile at the twenty or so teens still standing outside.

Brett held open the bus door, and we boarded in a single-file line. I collapsed on the couch in the lounge while the guys immediately went to the bunk area to decide who slept where. Amber passed me the laptop before grabbing up the tablet. Since I was one of the main songwriters ー Alan was the other ー I had been designated as the one who updated our website and social media pages. I didn't think it was very fair, but it was what it was. I sighed, stretched my fingers, and began typing a new post.

_Hey, hey! Erin here. So tonight was the first show of our European tour starting here in the fabulous London! And I've gotta say _ー_ it was damn amazing! We're definitely excited to be touring overseas, and I know I speak for the guys when I say we're super-excited to be touring with One Direction (because honestly?? They are SO DAMN GOOD!!!!) So far, it's been absolutely awesome, and it can only get better from here!_

_Thanks for your support through everything, and we look forward to being able to see your gorgeous faces at our shows in the future!_

_Love, Erin xx_

I quickly posted the same paragraph as a status on our Facebook page and then logged into our band account on Twitter.

**CIOfficialx: ** _Tour started 2nite in London. LOVED IT. Can't wait for the rest & to meet u all! Hope ur enjoying the shows as much as we are! :D -e_

As I sat on the couch, staring at the screen and watching fans already retweeting and favouriting the tweet, I could see Amber tapping furiously at the tablet's on-screen keyboard. I leaned over to see who she was talking to: her mother. I knew immediately what the conversation was about. Her parents had been out for a date night when we'd picked her up on our way to the airport, so it wasn't until they'd come back to only Amber's brother home instead of both of them that they'd found out she was gone. Without saying anything, I pulled up YouTube with the hopes of distracting myself from the homesickness and pain of missing my own mother.

Jem slammed the laptop shut two hours later, a dark scowl clouding his face. "Get your asses to bed."

I didn't argue; I was too exhausted, so I found an empty bunk, slid inside, and yanked the curtains closed behind me. Unfortunately, sleep evaded me, and I laid there with my gaze trained on the bottom of the bunk above me for hours as my best friend sniffled and tried to stifle the sounds of her crying in her own bed. It tore at my heart to listen to it, but comforting her would only make things worse. She needed time to process everything. Eventually, I rolled over, closed my eyes, and forced myself to sleep.


	3. three

I groaned lowly, turned over onto my back, and stretched as my eyes slowly opened. My phone screen said I'd only been asleep for a handful of hours ー certainly less than I wanted. I pushed back the curtain to my bunk and ignored the heaviness in my limbs as I rolled out of my bunk with an extreme lack of grace. I stumbled down the short hall into the kitchenette area, yawning widely enough to cause my jaw to pop, and Alan glanced up. His grimace told me I looked as bad as I felt. I peered through the window and saw that the bus was parked outside of a McDonald's, the other bus in front of ours. Alan patted the seat next to him, and I plopped down onto the couch.

"They went to get breakfast and coffee. We're on a pretty tight schedule today, so we'll have to leave as soon as they come back." He paused, eyes squinting as he thought. "Oh, we're gonna get a hotel after the show tonight since we have back-to-back shows and an interview for a radio station in the morning."

"'Kay."

We didn't speak any more, and I rose to my feet and stepped off the bus. There wasn't much to do while parked in a fast food joint's parking lot, but I needed something to help me wake up. The brisk early morning air was perfect for that, the coolness causing my brain to snap out of its groggy daze. I stared at the rising sun as it peeked between buildings; voices coming my way made me look away. Louis, Harry, Jem, and Brett were heading toward the buses, their arms loaded with bags and trays of takeaway cups. Louis's face split into a grin visible even from the distance, and he shoved his two bags into an unsuspecting Harry's arms. I heard Harry protesting with a loud "Oi, you arse!", but Louis ignored him and started running toward me at full speed. Before I could say anything, he had me in his arms and was spinning us around. A shriek tore from my throat, but it didn't stop my laughing even as I buried my face in his neck. He finally set me back down, and I clung to him for a few more moments so that the dizziness would pass. When we finally parted, I followed my bandmates back onto the bus, waving goodbye to Harry and Louis at the door; Jem was handing out breakfast sandwiches and coffees by the time I shut the door behind me. I grabbed my food from him and headed to the lounge. I wanted to Skype with my mother before she went to bed.

"Hey, Mommy!"

"Oh, honey, hey! How is the tour? How is everyone?"

"Things are going so great. Everyone says hi and they send their love." I giggled as the guys started yelling at my mom from the kitchenette. "How's everything at home?"

"Perfectly fine. You know my job is entirely too predictable."

I shrugged and picked at my sausage biscuit sandwich. "Who knows, I thought Mister Laramie would have dressed in a tutu again by now."

"Oh, Erin. That was one time, and it was for a good cause!"

"I know."

"Why are you staring? Have I got something on my face?"

I shook my head as her fingers felt around her mouth for anything that shouldn't be there. "No, Mom. You're absolutely beautiful."

She grimaced and waved a dismissive hand, but it didn't change my opinion. She had pale green eyes and hair the colour of light caramel candies, and her full lips would give even the most gorgeous model a complex. Her appearance always made me wish I'd inherited her genes instead of my fathers, but I supposed that couldn't be helped. I'd rather have gotten traits from the troll in the Harry Potter movies than my father.

"Mom... you know you're my absolute best friend, right? You've been the only one there since the day I was born. Thank you for supporting me in everything I decided to do."

"Honey, what's wrong?" She frowned and leaned closer to the screen. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Everything is great. I just, I just never tell you enough how much I appreciate all that you've done for me. I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, baby."

"Okay, go to sleep, old woman," I said playfully when her words were interrupted by a yawn that she tried to hide. "Gotta get your rest if you're gonna teach rebellious teenagers how to be badasses with intelligence."

She was laughing as she ended the call, and immediately, I felt the loneliness settling in. I hadn't been lying; my mother was the best friend, even more than Amber. She'd been the one who'd worked two or three jobs and still found time to read me bedtime stories without complaint, no matter how often I chose the same story over and over and over again. When my father had left when I was five, she had held me tight and whispered that she would always be there for me and that she would never leave. And it didn't matter what I said or did ー my mother really was always there. She'd been disappointed when I got suspended from school at fourteen for vandalising the gymnasium in my school, but she'd loved me anyway. She hadn't even blinked an eye when I told her I was joining a band, just said "Okay" and saved up enough money to buy me a better guitar than the First Act I'd used to teach myself to play. She was our biggest fan ー my biggest fan ー from the very start. Seeing her today helped a bit with the pain of not being with her, but that relief only last while she had been on the screen. Now, my heart longed to be back home, curled up beside her in her bed while we watched stupid sitcoms from laughing so much, just like we used to do when I was growing up. I never asked her how she was doing after Patrick had abandoned us ー I never thought to ー but she'd never seemed to mind. She was always more worried about how I was holding up.

I wiped away the tears I hadn't realised were slipping down my cheeks. Thinking about her made me realise just how much I'd always taken my mother for granted. I sighed, closed the laptop, and stared out the window at the road. Cars passed outside, but they were unimportant blurs in the grand scheme of things. I had no idea what our next destination was, and at that moment, I didn't really care. I was well aware that I was luckier than I could have ever dreamed, being able to do what I always wanted and said I would, but it did very little to ease the homesickness that resided deep in my heart. I'd always imagined what it would be like to have finally succeeded with what we set out to do almost five years ago ー and those five years were full of relentless hard work and a lot of let-downs ー but it had never occurred to me that I would have a selfish desire to never leave my mother. I leaned my head against the window and thought back to the day that started my career in the band.

_I paused to take a steadying breath before striding up the driveway to the garage with far more confidence than I actually felt. The vibrations from the amps jarred against my knuckles when I knocked on the white door; I wiped my clammy hands on my ratty denim shorts and knocked again. The music cut off with a loud squeal, and whoever was inside pulled the door up so they could see who was interrupting them. Three boys, slightly out of breath and sweaty, stared at me as if I was an alien with three extra heads._

_"What do you want?" the boy behind the drumset said._

_"Are you Jem?"_

_The singer raised his hand. "No, I am. What's up?"_

_"I'm here to join the band."_

_The silence was broken after a few minutes when they all began laughing. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared until they were done. The drummer stared at me with an amused smirk on his face, the bassist had to turn away because he kept chuckling anytime he looked at me, and Jem shrugged after exchanging a look with his twin._

_"And what would you even play? Everything's taken care of."_

_"You could always use another guitarist," I said, stomping my foot when all they did was give me incredulous looks ー sure, my reaction wouldn't sway their decision to let me join, but my temper was close to snapping. "Look, let me see that Gibson, and I'll prove I'm not just some little girl trying to play with the big boys."_

_Doubt was still etched on the bassist's face even as Jem passed over his guitar. I swiped my palms against my shorts once more before tossing the strap over my head and getting the instrument settled. I strummed experimentally a few times, inhaled deeply, then took immense pleasure in watching their jaws drop during my "audition", _Welcome to the Jungle_ by Guns N Roses. Once I'd finished and passed the guitar back, I stood and waited as patiently as I could. Finally, the drummer spoke._

_"Welcome to the band, little girl."_

I was pulled from my memories when Amber plopped down beside me. She held out a bag of Twizzlers and waited until I'd grabbed one before taking an enormous bite off the candy rope. "What'cha thinking about?"

"The day I joined the band."

"Oh, yeah, I remember that! You were crying like a baby when you told me about it afterwards," she giggled.

"I was not!"

"You totally were. I mean, I didn't blame you. It was super ballsy, what you did, and I definitely would never have been able to barge in on someone's rehearsal and demand they let me join their band."

"Eh, it seems to have worked out in my favour."

We sat in silence and ate the candy for a few minutes. She rested her head against my shoulder, her free hand coming to link with mine. I let my head fall back and closed my eyes. I hadn't gotten enough sleep, and my exhaustion was quickly making itself known. Amber exhaled heavily.

"Mind if I Skype with my mom before we get to the hotel?"

"Sure, go ahead. Want some privacy?"

"As much as I can get on a tour bus? Yes, please."

I nodded, pressed a kiss to her hair, and stole a handful of Twizzlers from the bag. She slapped half-heartedly at my hand but didn't bother moving the bag away. I dropped my breakfast wrappers into the bin on the way to the kitchenette; only Brett was there, but he had his earbuds in ー a sure sign to not bother him. I grabbed the tablet from its charging nook and went to my bunk to play Solitaire until we arrived at the hotel.


	4. four

A knock on the door pulled me from my half-doze, and I stared blankly at the gauzy curtains that covered the windows. It was a hard debate, whether I wanted to get up or stay where I was. The sound came again, and I sighed, struggled to move from my position on the hotel bed. Somehow, when I’d flung myself back onto the mattress, I had landed farther across than intended, so I had been lying half off the bed with my head near the floor for the last thirty minutes. When it became apparent that getting up wasn’t going to be easy, I sighed and let myself slide toward the floor. _ Thank damn for carpets_, I thought as I stumbled to my feet; the world spun ‘round as I righted myself, nearly puking from dizziness, but I made my way across the room to pull open the door. Louis and Harry stood on the other side, both smiling immediately when they saw me.

“Come in.”

“Why’s your face so red?” Harry asked while I flopped back onto the bed, resuming my position without going as upside-down as I was. “Ah. Never mind then.” 

He sat on the edge of the bed to my right, and Louis lowered himself to the floor and leaned up against the bed on my left. I tapped out a rhythm on my belly with my fingertips as I waited for them to speak, making a bet with myself about which boy would break the silence first. I lost my own wager when Harry talked.

“Everybody else is out to dinner,” he commented lightly and flipped at a strand of my hair. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

“Why didn’t _ you _?” I shot back with a grin.

“We did. We just came back for you.”

I waved off his statement. “Eh, you might as well go back. I’m not hungry.”

Louis turned his head to look at me, and I stifled a giggle at the fact that I could basically see up his nose. “You’re never hungry, are you?”

“Not really. I mean, sometimes? Mostly, I just live off of coffee and a few protein bars throughout the day just so I’m getting the calories needed.”

“You’re crazy.” Harry shrugged when I looked at him. “I think Niall would lose his mind if he knew that.”

I raised my shoulders jerkily and regretted it when the movement caused me to slip down a few more inches. Thankfully, I didn’t fall off the bed, so I counted it as a win. The quiet in the room grew uncomfortable after a few minutes without anybody talking; I closed my eyes against the blood pounding in my head, but I could feel the way they were staring at me. Eventually, they left, Louis promising to bring me some food. I responded with a noncommital noise and ignore the click of the door closing behind them. I was mostly caught up on the way that Harry had brought Niall into the conversation. Why would he do that? Everyone had to know that Niall didn’t even like me ー he’d certainly made it no secret! I groaned, reaching for a pillow and covering my face with it. 

I’d spent the last few days scouring my brain for any clue as to what I’d done so wrong, but I literally had not spoken to him at all before he’d immediately froze me out. Though our bands had hung out earlier in the day after soundcheck, Niall still hadn’t said a word to me. It was uncomfortable, watching him laugh and chat with everyone, even Amber, but completely ignore me. No one had seemed to notice his behaviour, so I tried to pretend it wasn’t happening, but after an hour and a half of being treated as if I didn’t exist, I feigned a headache and escaped to the room I shared with Amber. And only two people ー not even members of my own band ー had shown up to check on me. I scoffed and flung the pillow away from me. That hurt, probably more than Niall’s silent treatment. 

Fortunately, Amber burst into the room in a flurry of excitement and loud chatter. I slid off the bed again and clambered to my feet; she didn’t pause in her speaking to actually give me a chance to reply to anything she was saying. Instead, she flung a pair of navy blue tights, a white-and-blue-striped long-sleeved shirt that went to my mid-thigh, and my favourite grey knit beanie. I numbly changed from my cotton shorts and tank-top into the outfit, mind still racing though it was less chaotic than before her appearance. Once I was done, Amber brushed my hair and twisted it into a braid that went from my left temple, along the base of my skull, and finished at the top of my neck on the right side. I quickly applied some eyeliner and mascara, and slipped my feet into a pair of silver flats. Her words trailed off as her eyes finally, _ finally _, took in my expression.

“What’s wrong?”

I shook my head and reached for my hoodie. “Nothing. What time is it?”

“Um, you’ve got about an hour before you have to get to the venue.” She paused, reached out a hand for me. “Erin… you know you can always talk to me, right?”

I nodded but didn’t respond. If I opened my mouth, I was sure everything I was feeling and thinking would come out in an embarrassingly large amount of word vomit that I just didn’t have the energy to handle or clean up. After making sure I had my phone, I grabbed my room key and walked out to the main area of the suite to find my bandmates in various states of undress: All Jem was wearing was a towel wrapped around his waist, and Brett wasn’t much better, lounging in the armchair in just his boxers. I waved goodbye, lifted my hood over my head, and exited the suite, striding unhesitatingly toward the end of the hall where the elevator bay was. I jammed my finger into the button, waited impatiently for the lift to arrive. When it did, I was grateful to find it empty.

People were pushing past each other when I stepped through the doors of the hotel. I could see a majority of them were holding signs bearing the insignia of Complete Irrationality and One Direction; some of the crowd was even taking pictures of each other standing in front of the hotel. Gratitude surged through me at the fact that they were here outside the building in anticipation of just seeing one of us. However, that joy seeped away at the realisation that their sheer number was overwhelming. I turned on my heel and walked away as fast as I could. The noise of their chatter and singing faded the further I got, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I was left alone with my thoughts. Unfortunately for me, those thoughts led straight to Niall.

I hated to admit it, but he’d made a valid point after the autograph session: It _ didn’t _ make sense that I’d become a musician when I had such terrible social anxiety, especially when it prevented me from being able to be as friendly and open with the fans as my friends were. It had been relatively managed while touring the United States, though, and hadn’t become harder to handle until we’d been billed to tour with the British boyband. I sighed, shoving my hands into my hoodie pockets. It was a wonder the guys let me stay in the band ー this wasn’t just an observation by a guy who detested me, but in fact had been mentioned in various interviews since we started gaining notoriety. But I couldn’t understand why he had such a problem with me. I knew that my quietness was a major off-putting aspect of my personality to most people; rarely does a person mind having a one-sided conversation, but no one had ever reacted the way Niall had. There had been nothing but contempt and displeasure in his eyes every time he looked my way. He tensed up if I came within two feet of him, and it was as if I was invisible when we were in the same room as each other.

I sat on the ledge of the walking bridge, staring out over the river. My mind was stuck on thinking about that damn boy, even though all I wanted was to forget about my troubles with him. Suddenly, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I rolled my eyes. I hadn’t been gone long enough for it to be a problem. 

**From: Alan ** _ Get your ass back here. Leaving in 10 min. _

Evidently, I’d been gone longer than I thought. I sighed, clambered down off the ledge carefully, and made my way through the streets until the hotel loomed large and imposing in front of me. My bandmates gave me confused looks when I met up with them in the alley behind the building, but thankfully, they didn’t ask the questions I knew were on their minds. Instead, we just piled into the vans, and I ignored their questioning glances. Once we reached the venue, we all began hurrying around to get set up for the show. I handed my hoodie to Amber and reached out for the guitar that a tech was handing me. Jem’s hand on my wrist stopped me before I could head for the stage.

“We decided on the setlist while you were gone. ‘Confessions’ is after ‘Count on Me.’”

“But ー no! You know I can’t sing that!”

“Too bad. You should’ve been there for the band meeting.”

I rolled my eyes and flipped him off, scowling darkly as I followed Brett onto the stage. The fans screamed at the first sight of us, and I knew that, even through the anxiety that was already making its existence known, this was what I wanted to do for as long as I could. The reactions from the fans, the loyalty they showed for us at any hint of negativity from critics… They made the panic attacks and neverending panic worth it. I smiled brightly, adjusted the position of my guitar, and began playing the opening chords to “Fly Away”.

“All right, all right! Y’all have been amazing, but I need a break from singing. Miss Erin here has a wonderful voice, though, so I’mma let her take over for a bit. E?”

“Um, okay.” I chuckled breathlessly into the microphone and shifted my stance a bit. “Okay. This is a song I started writing when I was eight. Jem and Alan found it after I joined the band, and we’ve been working on it for five years. You guys will actually be the first, besides our families, to ever hear it. Let’s go.

“I waited for you to come back, but you never showed. I waited for a letter, but I’m not worth your words. I break my own heart expecting you to care. I curse God above when you’re not there.” I swallowed thickly as Jem played the chords to lead up to the chorus. “You made me hate myself. You made me break apart. You were supposed to give a damn. But all you did was break my heart. What kind of father could so easily walk away? What kind of man must you be to ruin everything we had that day? I know I shouldn’t care, I know I shouldn’t dwell. These are just confessions from my personal Hell.

“So many wishes have been wasted on blown-out birthday candles. So many years I missed you so, but now I just can’t handle the way I break my own heart expecting you to care. I curse God above when you’re not there. You made me hate myself. You made me break apart. You were supposed to give a damn. But all you did was break my heart. What kind of father could so easily walk away? What kind of man must you be to ruin everything we had that day? I know I shouldn’t care, I know I shouldn’t dwell. These are just confessions from my personal Hell.

“Now I’m done… breaking my own heart, expecting you to care. I won’t… curse God any more, because you’ll never be there. You made me hate myself. You made me break apart. You were supposed to give a damn. But all you did was break my heart. What kind of father could so easily walk away? What kind of man must you be to ruin everything we had that day? I know I shouldn’t care, I know I shouldn’t dwell. These are just confessions from my personal Hell. Oh, these are just confessions from my… own… personal… Hell…” 

I stepped away from the microphone, blinked rapidly to clear my vision. If we thought the fans were loud before, that was nothing in comparison to the noise they were making now. I quickly brushed away the tears on my cheeks, and Jem stepped out from behind the keyboard he’d been playing, shooting me a comforting smile. I couldn’t return it, though; the song had been written to be therapeutic, to get out all the mixed-up feelings I had, but singing it just brought back the pain I’d been feeling when I first wrote it. I tapped my fingers against the face of my guitar, staring out at the faces before us, and as Jem talked to the crowd, my relief at being out of the spotlight suddenly melted. My heart squeezed tightly in my chest, and I struggled to breathe. The world went fuzzy and black at the edges; before I hit the ground, my last coherent thought was _ What the fuck is he doing here? _


	5. five

For so many people crammed into one venue, it was awfully quiet when I came to. I blinked slowly, squinting when the bright lights of the stage blinded me; Jem’s face appeared above mine, eyes wide and mouth tight at the corners. I breathed in deeply, willing the nausea to abate. I slowly sat up with his assistance and assessed any possible injuries. I could only feel a dull ache in my back and a throbbing pain in my skull; the fans erupted into a buzz of noise ー most likely wondering what caused me to faint ー but we ignored them in favour of making sure I was okay enough to stand. Brett helped me to my feet, and I squeezed his hand in thanks. Before I could get my guitar ready for the next song, Jem was back at the microphone and speaking to the audience.   


“I’m, I’m so sorry, everybody. I know we only have two more songs leftー”

My jaw dropped, and I pushed past Brett to storm to Jem’s side. “Don’t you even dare!” I objected. “We’re finishing the set.”

“Erin…”

“You try to cut it short, and I swear, I’ll beat your ass.”

The fans screamed with pleasure, and Jem hesitated. I could see him warring with himself, but he eventually caved. We played our two slowest tracks as a finisher, which I was grateful for, because the slight pain had escalated into full-blown agony. Amber met us backstage with an ice pack and a couple of acetaminophens. I swallowed the pillows without water, pressed the cold compress to the back of my head, and groaned when someone brushed past me, sending flickers of pain throughout my body. I could hear the members of One Direction coming nearer, but I kept my eyes closed. Amber’s voice was stern when she spoke.

“Louis Tomlinson, don’t even think about it. She is in no state to be picked up, spun around, or even touched right now.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I spat out between clenched teeth in response to Niall’s question before allowing Amber to guide me toward the dressing room. 

My best friend helped me change into a pair of black sweats, a plain blue tank-top, and my favourite oversized hoodie. I leaned against her, didn’t even protest as she led me out through the back exit to find Bryan, our head of security. She spoke quietly, and I didn’t try to listen in, too busy fighting against my stomach; I winced at the gruffness in Bryan’s tone as he radioed for the rest of security to take over. Amber assisted me into the backseat of the rental SUV, and I curled up on the seat as Bryan started the car and drove us out of the parking lot.

The nurse gave me a sympathetic smile before he left the room. Amber had a hold of my hand, gently gripping as reassurance that she was still there; I closed my eyes against the lights of the room, but Amber wasn’t going to leave me alone about it. 

“What happened?”

“I fainted, obviously.”

“Wanna tell me why?”

“No.”

“Erin, it isn’t normal to pass out in the middle of your set. There has to be a reason!”

“There  _ is _ a reason, but I don’t want to fucking talk about it! Now, please, leave me alone. My head is hurting bad enough.”

“I bet it is.”

The doctor smiled at me from the doorway. She sat on the stool beside the bed and stared down at the file in her hand. I fidgeted nervously and waited.

“Okay, Miss McCarty, could you tell me what happened?”

“Guess… guess I just got too hot and passed out. Occupational hazards of being onstage in a crowded venue.”

“Okay. Have you eaten anything today? Taken medications or drank something you shouldn’t have?”

“I, well, I’ve eaten. I don’t take medicines except for, like, ibuprofen or whatever if I have a headache, and I don’t really drink alcohol.”

“All right. Well, I’ve got you scheduled for some CT scans so we can see if there’s any damage, then we’ll figure out where to go from there, okay?”

Two and a half hours later, Bryan pulled up in front of the hospital, and the staff and security helped to keep the fans away while Amber guided me into the vehicle. I could hear questions being shouted at me, but I ignored them; it wasn’t like anyone would let me answer them even if I wanted to. The noise fell to a muffled roar once the door was closed behind us. My head was spinning from everything that had happened. I was just thankful that the hospital had supplied me with a prescription of pain killers. Unfortunately, Doctor Newart had ordered me to wear a brace in order to not injure my back worse.

“So what’d they say?”

I rubbed a hand over my eyes as I made my way across the main room of the suite. “Mild concussion, bruised vertebrae, the usual fun stuff. Night.”

It took less than ten minutes to fall asleep that night.

  
**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**   
  


My fingers never stopped dancing across the strings as I watched the newcomer stride down the aisle toward the stage as if she owned the place. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun; around her neck hung a lanyard to which a badge was clipped. She wore a tight-fitting Mariana’s Trench T-shirt and hip-hugging jean shorts that showed off all of her long, tan legs. Alan almost started drooling on sight, and I couldn’t really blame him ー she was drop-dead gorgeous.   


“Who are you?”

She stopped at the edge of the stage, leaning her hip against it and staring up at Jem with a sly smile. “I’m Stefanie. I’m gonna be your new best friend.”

“How’d you even get in here?” Amber asked shortly; personally, she had more attitude than I thought was necessary, but with the expression on her face, I wasn’t going to mention it. “The show doesn’t start for another three hours, and soundcheck is usually closed to outsiders.”

“It’s called being the photographer, hun. I get to hang around celebrities, doing something… useful.”

“Enough.” Brett sighed, set his bass aside. “Stefanie, right?”

“Yep, but not Stef. I’ll fight you if you do.”

“All right. Well, I’m sorry, but we didn’t ask for a photographer to come to our soundcheck. So maybe you should leave.”

“You maybe didn’t, but your management did. So did One Direction’s. I’m not here to be a burden, but I  _ am _ supposed to be here.”

I grimaced as we all rose our feet; the pain medication was wearing off. Amber hopped off the stage to stand out where, in a few hours’ time, thousand of fans would be screaming and singing along to our songs. Stefanie walked back up the aisle and grabbed a box from one of the seats. Her camera clicked as she took photos, the sound barely audible over Jem’s voice or the instruments. Rehearsal went smoothly, and I could only hope it would sound just as great later.

Louis, thankfully, refrained himself from what I’d gotten accustomed to as his “traditional” method of greeting me. Instead, he chose to pat me gingerly on the shoulder; the sparkle in his eye was still there, which made me feel less like screaming. Amber had been acting as if I were a house of cards ー one wrong move, and they’d all come tumbling to the ground, and I’d end up broken in a million pieces. Jem had been avoiding me ever since I yelled at him to stop asking why I’d fainted, and Alan continuously asked if there was anything I needed. Brett was the only who hadn’t really treated me any differently, not like he’d ever been overly open with affection.  
  
Another person whose behaviour toward me hadn’t differentiated from the normal was Niall. Honestly, I never thought I’d be grateful for being treated like I was invisible. But I was. I caught myself gravitating toward him whenever I felt the others were smothering me with their worry and inquiries. I truly welcomed him ignoring me over the alternative of spending hours trying not to lose my temper.

**...**

I sighed and followed my bandmates onto the stage. Stefanie was already there between the guardrail and the stage, camera at the ready. I took a seat on the high-backed stool a tech had set up for me, and the others got into place with their respective instruments. I couldn’t help myself ー I tuned out the conversation that Jem was holding with the fans, hoping he’d hurry up and get to the music.

My vision was pulsing at the edges by the time the set finished. I’d barely gotten out of view of the fans before the protein bars and vitamin water I’d ingested before our gig at Amber’s persistence made its reappearance on the floor. Amber lunged forward to hold my hair back. Louis and Liam’s faces were twisted up in concern; Harry looked torn between worry and disgust, while Zayn took a large step backwards, away from the puddle of vomit. Even Niall’s eyes had changed from blank and uncaring to something I couldn’t read. Arms wrapped around my shoulders, and I leaned heavily against whoever it was and let them lead me back to the dressing room.

After the other band played and cleaned up, we all walked together to the tables where we’d be signing autographs. Louis was sweet enough to keep an arm around my waist so that I wouldn’t fall or stumble. I adjusted the brace I had to wear once I sat down, smiled at Harry as he tossed a Sharpie to me, and settled in to wait. I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on Niall, and to my shock, he was staring back at me.


	6. six

I awoke the next morning to a completely silent bus. We’d hurriedly packed our belongings immediately after getting back to the hotel after the show, boarded the buses, and set off for the next destination. My mother had evidently seen the video of me fainting during the set on the internet, so by the time I had gotten settled in on the bus and logged into Skype, there were seven missed calls. I’d only sent her back a message saying I was fine and that I would call her later. Amber had herded me to bed after an hour or so of mindless scrolling through my Twitter feed.   


I hadn’t slept very well through the night; between the brace preventing me from getting comfortable and my mind replaying nonstop the moment I caught Niall’s eyes focused on me the night before, my rest had been interrupted regularly. I was still no closer to figuring out why Niall had been staring at me ー or what the expression in his eyes had been. Even after thinking about it every time I woke up, I had no idea. All I knew was that it hadn’t been contempt.

I sighed, staring at the bottom of the bunk above me. I didn’t want to be awake, and I certainly didn’t want to move. But the fact that I had to pee rather badly meant I would have to soon. I scratched idly at my forehead, wondered if I could fall back asleep for a bit longer before my bladder burst. Logically, I knew I couldn’t, so I conceded to reality and struggled to get out of my bunk. It was an awkward thing at the best of times, but it was made massively more difficult with something wrapped around my torso to intentionally prohibit any movement of my spine. I finally managed it, though, and awkwardly landed on my feet in the centre aisle. After grabbing my phone, I headed toward the lounge where Amber had fallen asleep sometime after I’d gone to bed. I tiptoed past her, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, and grabbed the laptop. Once I logged into the band’s Twitter, my brows furrowed at the fact that there were over four hundred mentions, all of them a direct result of the tweet Alan had posted after my fainting incident.

**CIOfficialx: ** _ Due to tonites events E wont be able to sign autographs after the show. DM us ur address & she’ll send one to everyone in the mail! -A _

My jaw dropped, and I stared disbelievingly at the promise he’d made. That meant writing out personalised ー albeit short ー notes to thousands of fans. Sure, that wasn’t the issue; I absolutely loved doing things for the ones who got us where we were, because without them, we’d still be four kids in a garage with nobody watching, but to make that promise without even discussing it with me was a bit careless of Alan. I sighed, rolled my eyes, and started reading through the mentions. It turned out to be a terrible decision once I saw some of them.

_ Why should we have to wait because of the fact she couldn’t handle a little fall??? _

_ If Erin cant deal with the hot lighs of a stage why is she even in a band… _

_ maybe u guys should find someone better suited for CI since erin apparently isnt worthy!! _

_ Is anyone really surprised that she’s done this? Bitch doesn’t even talk to fans/in interviews so ofc she wouldn’t want to sign autographs _

Tears stung at my eyes, but I brushed them away angrily. There was no point in crying over something I had been dealing with since we had gotten the smallest bit of attention. It had grown worse with the more fans that joined, and the hate had exploded the moment it was announced that we were touring with One Direction. But it wasn’t necessarily a new experience. I sniffled and took a steadying breath before focusing on the other messages. 

_ OMG is erin okay??? plz send her my best wishes! _

_ Erin-ignore these assholes! Be strong girl & I hope you get better! _

_ Where do we send the addresses to? Id wait FOREVER for an autograph! _

_ The shows the past 2 nites were fkn amazing. So glad i went! Thank u for existing!!! _

**CIOfficialx: ** _ Just want to thank you all for the well-wishes! Can’t wait to send all the autographs! I’ll post details for you in a bit! -e _

With that done, I logged into my personal FaceBook and checked my notifications. Amber’s brother, Christopher, had tagged me in a picture from when Amber and I were kids, playing on the beach in our matching Minnie Mouse bathing suits. I left a comment with a heart emoji before moving on to the next notification. Finally, I clicked on my inbox and felt bile rising in my throat immediately at the name of the sender. I clicked on the message, not even debating whether to read it or ignore it.   


**Patrick Dunn says:**

_ Hello, Erin. I know it’s been a long while, and for that… well, “I’m sorry” doesn’t say enough. I know apologising won’t take back everything I put you and your mother through. I am sorry, though, pumpkin. I have never regretted a decision I’ve made as much as I regret leaving you. _

_ I tried getting backstage the other night to see if you were OK after your show, but security wouldn’t let me. I’m sorry if my showing up had anything to do with what happened. I hope you’re all right…   
_

_ Well, I can’t really think of anything else to say, so I guess I’ll leave it at this. Message me back if you want to. No pressure, but I’d really like it if you would.  
Love, Dad. _

I logged out of FaceBook with my heart pounding in my chest. My skin was hot, tight; I felt like my nerves were on fire with my rage. Jem had woken up by the time the bus stopped outside of our next venue, but he’d taken one look at me and immediately relocated to another part of the bus. I stormed off the bus, wanting nothing more than to punch the everloving hell out of somebody; everybody kept their distance from me as I paced around the area behind the venue. My anger at Patrick’s nerve to even contact me had escalated the longer I was stuck on the bus, and now I could barely breathe. How  _ dare _ he pretend to care this long after he left us? Even Bryan seemed to cower when I turned abruptly on my heel and stomped in his direction. Without a word, I yanked the pack of cigarettes he always had on him out of his jacket pocket, slipped one between my lips, and wiggled my fingers for his lighter. He passed it over silently; I lit the cigarette and handed back the lighter, resuming my pacing. Amber stepped closer, and I saw her mouth open, but she seemed to think better of it and headed inside with Alan and Jem. After a few minutes (and some hesitation on Louis and Liam’s part), I was eventually left alone with only Bryan standing ten feet away.

I leaned against the wall, staring at the ground and taking long drags off the cigarette, before letting my eyes close against the burning in my eyes. My brain seemed to be filled with static as I continuously thought about Patrick and the way he’d fucked everything up again. I didn’t move even as I heard a shoe scuffing the pavement, the person intruding on my moment of being pissed off in private moving closer.

“Want to talk about it?”

My head shot up, and I stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at Niall as he stood less than a foot away from me.

_ What the what? _


	7. seven

Niall frowned, his eyes dark with concern, which shocked me. I was so used to seeing nothing but contempt. Time seemed to drag on slowly as I stared at him, unable to form words of any level ー not even random sounds. He nodded once, slowly, and turned on his heel. He’d just reached the door when I finally found my voice. 

“Hey, wait up.”

I dropped the burnt-up cigarette to the ground, crushed it beneath my boot, and hurried to his side. My confusion and surprise had taken away the worst of my anger; though I could still feel it bubbling under the surface, it was nothing in comparison to the way my stomach was twisting itself into knots, or how my mind kept whispering  _ this could be a trap, why would he speak to you?  _ I drew in a steadying breath, ignored how close Bryan was. 

“Why, uh, why do you care? I’m not trying to be rude,” I rushed to explain when he rolled his eyes, “but the way you’ve been treating me since day one kinda makes it hard to believe that you’d ever wanna hear about my problems.” 

He sighed, shrugging and turning to lean against the wall as Bryan took a few steps away. “I… I guess the fact that you were so quiet the day we met. It just seemed like you wanted to be anywhere else with anyone else other than on tour with us. You didn’t look at anyone or speak to anyone unless they looked at you or said something to you first. And, and Jem’s statement of how you don’t shut up once you knew someone didn’t do much good to change your behaviour  _ then _ , ya know? But… 

“Then I saw how you are with the lads, and it made me realise that you aren’t cold and distant, just quiet. I mean, you’ve hung out regularly with Haz and Lou since the tour started, and you’re still quiet with them. Anyway. I was going to say sorry for how I’ve acted toward you the other night, but you and Amber rushed off to the buses, so I never got the chance.”

My words caught in my throat; I swallowed thickly and avoided looking at him, instead staring at my feet. “Really?”

“Yeah. You didn’t deserve how I was treating you. So, I’m sorry.”

“How bad did that hurt?” I asked after a moment, smiling, hoping he would take it as the joke it was instead of anything else. Thankfully, he laughed. 

“Not as bad as I thought it would.” He grew serious again, and I frowned at the disappearance of his smile. “But really, do you want to talk about what made you so angry?”

I glanced around at the fans pressing against the large fences surrounding the back of the building, at Bryan pretending he couldn’t hear us talking, at the drivers loitering around the buses and speaking to each other. “Um, not here. Maybe later, though?”

“Okay. Shall we?”

He held the door open for me, and I led him inside. Electricity seemed to be in every one of my nerve endings; I could feel him just inches away as we walked down the corridor, the heat from his skin palpable through the distance ー or maybe it was my imagination. I floundered as I tried to think of a topic we could discuss. Though we’d cleared up the biggest issue between us, I didn’t know him. I’d gotten to know Harry, Louis, Liam, and even Zayn fairly well, but Niall has essentially made himself a complete stranger to me. Apparently, he felt the same way. He opened his mouth as if to say something, shook his head, and let his lips press together again. 

“So,” he started right as I said “Well…”

One glance at each other sent us bursting into laughter. It was awkward, but it seemed to have broken the ice. From our right came the sound of a camera shutter, and I turned to see that Stefanie had snapped a photo of us. She flashed a wide grin before heading in the direction of the stage; Niall shrugged at my questioning look, and we followed behind her. Amber immediately walked toward me when she saw us. Niall smiled, tapped his fingers against the back of my arm, and walked away before I could say anything. But honestly, what could I have told him? We weren’t friends, we barely even knew each other’s names, so no matter what I could have possibly wanted to say, it would have been too uncomfortable and ran the risk of ruining the fragile truce we had between us. Instead, I pulled my gaze away from him as he listened intently to whatever Liam was saying to face my best friend. 

She bit her lip as she glanced from me to Niall then back to me. “What was that about?”

“Uh, nothing really. He just wanted to see if I was all right.”

“And you let him live?”

“Yes, Lambchop, I let him live. Why wouldn’t I?”

She shrugged and held onto the stool as I perched on it. The squeal of a guitar string interrupted her words, and Jem’s “Sorry!” echoed through the stage. She rolled her eyes, leaned closer so I could hear her better over the various conversations. 

“I mean, I know you don’t really like him, that’s all. Don’t give me that look! You two haven’t said a word to each other that wasn’t sarcastic or shitty since this tour started, so it’s been pretty obvious that you can’t stand each other.”

“Maybe that’s changing,” I said quietly, finding Niall across the stage. 

I ducked my head with a smile when his hand lifted in an uncertain wave. 

________________________________________________

It was only because of Alan’s hand wrapped around my wrist that I went in the right direction or even kept pace. I’d been woken up thirty minutes ago without the promise of coffee, so I was still half-asleep and incredibly jealous of the One Direction guys ー they were still sleeping the morning away. Someone called out our names, and we were led into a room where a man sat speaking into a microphone. He glanced up, looked back down at the paper in front of him, then lifted his head to look at us again; his face split into a grin, and he finished speaking, pressed a few buttons. When he stood up to greet us, I almost gasped out loud. He had to have been well over six feet tall. He shook hands with my friends, and I managed to make a fool of myself once he got to me. 

“Holy Christ on a cheesecake, you’re tall.”

He let out a booming laugh, and my cheeks grew even hotter. “I get that a lot. Come, sit, sit! I have loads of questions from your fans to ask you.” He put his headphones back on, pushed another button, and began speaking into the microphone while we put our own headphones on. “Aaaand we’re back! With me, I have all four members of Complete Irrationality, the American pop-rock band on tour now with One Direction. We’ll start with a few questions that had already been sent in, and then we’ll move on and take a couple calls from you!”

The questions were, at first, pretty generic.  _ What is it like to tour, especially with One Direction? _ Crazy but fun, best time of our lives.  _ What are the guys of 1D like in person?  _ Awesome, much better than imagined.  _ Would you ever date a fan?  _ Depends ー are they psycho? The usual type of inquiries, nothing unlike the ones tweeted at us all the time. Then the calls came in. I took a sip of my coffee that an assistant had brought and listened to the caller squeak.

“Hi! Er, what inspired the song ‘Confessions’, and why was it never released?”

I laughed weakly as all eyes in the room landed on me. “Um, it was, it was inspired by a very, very personal event in my life, and well, it was never really supposed to see the light of day. Jem’s just stubborn, so…” I shrugged. “It probably still won’t be released, though.”

“Do you think you’ll be putting a new album out soon?”

“Absolutely!” Jem replied with a huge grin; I slumped back in my seat, relieved to no longer be the object of everyone’s attention. “We’re actually gonna be hitting the studio shortly after this tour. We’ve already got enough songs written, I think, so it shouldn’t be too long.”

A few more questions were answered. By the time the interview was supposed to end, I was getting restless. I hadn’t answered anything else except for the question about “Confessions”, and while it didn’t bother me to not have to speak, the coffee I’d drank had officially hit my bladder and ramped up my nervous energy. Thankfully, the host ー I hadn’t bothered remembering his name ー finally announced there was time for one more call. The line was filled with a piercing shriek; I winced and tugged my headphones off my ears until it finished.

“Hello, oh my God, I can’t believe I got through! You are my heroes! Seriously, you have the best music I’ve ever heard, and I love you so much. Oh, my God!”

“Is… there a question in there?” Brett asked, brows furrowed, and the caller let out a breathy laugh that crackled along the line.

“Yes, of course, right. Erin! Is it true that you’re dating Louis Tomlinson?”

I snorted inelegantly, clapped a hand over my nose and mouth, and struggled to bite back the laughter. Unfortunately, my bandmates had no sort of compunction and let loose. The host looked at all of us, perplexed, and I somehow managed to calm down enough to answer.

“Oh, gods, I’m so sorry. Thank you for calling! I’m so glad you love our music. But, um, no. I am most definitely not dating Louis. He’s just my crazy, but lovable, new best friend.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed, but her voice held a hopeful tone when she continued, “Do you think you’d ever date him? Or anyone you tour with?”

“I honestly could never see myself dating him. Like, never. Never ever. It’d be too weird. As I said, best friend. I don’t date my best friends. And I don’t think I could ever date someone I’m touring with. It would be too awkward, I think, because if it didn’t work out, we’d still have to be around each other constantly. Thanks again for calling!”

We shook hands again with the man while the commercial break played, and Alan ushered us out to the buses and onboard. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and headed to the lounge where Amber was sitting. I sat beside her, watched her as she stared out the window. When she didn’t react to my staring, I pressed the cold bottle against her bare leg, frowning when she twitched instead of fully smacking at me. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, and I scoffed.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“How do you deal with being away from family for so long?”

I paused. I hadn’t expected the question, and it certainly wasn’t something I thought about most of the time; it was easier to just…  _ do _ , instead of figuring out a way of coping. “I dunno. I just do, I guess. I mean, I always miss the Hell out of my family and friends, but Skype helps a bit until I get home again.”

“How much longer on this tour?”

“Another couple weeks, I think.” I checked the calendar on my phone. “Yeah, just a bit longer. But Am, if you wanna go home early, you can. Literally nobody would think less of you.”

She shrugged, sighed, and settled further into the couch. “I’ll think about it. Oh! You’ve got something on your bunk.”

I patted her leg gently and pushed myself to my feet. After pressing a kiss to her hair, I made my way to the bunk, flicking Jem in the back of the head as I passed. A pick hit my shoulder in retaliation; I laughed and crawled awkwardly into my bunk, pulling the curtains closed. The folded-up piece of paper crinkled under my knee, and I pulled it out and opened it. My confusion grew at the unfamiliar handwriting inside. 

_ Text me sometime? _

That was it. No name, no clue as to who it was, nothing. Just those three words and a phone number. The fact that it had a UK code before it at least narrowed down the possibilities somewhat, but that still left at least four of the One Direction guys (Louis had given me his number almost immediately after we joined the tour), and that wasn’t including the rest of the crew who’d been on the tour with us. I tapped the paper against my chin as I considered the possibilities. Eventually, I tucked the note into my pocket, stretched out on the bed, and closed my eyes. It might have only been ten-thirty in the morning, but I was dying for a nap.

**<×◎×> **

The stylists buzzed with idle conversation as they flitted around, holding up articles of clothing before discarding them or handing them to us. There were small changing rooms made from tall racks and curtains set up off to the side, but we didn’t bother utilising them; being in a band together ー and best friends ー for five years had dissolved any sense of propriety and nervousness between us, so I was just as comfortable stripping down in front of the guys as they were with me. Once we’d dressed in the chosen outfits, the stylists ushered us to the chairs and immediately got to work on our hair and makeup. I noticed the woman doing my makeup was spending more time on me than the others were on my friends, and it took all my willpower to not tell her enough was enough. We finally filed out to the main room to stand in front of a large white backdrop. The guys looked around, not the least bit affected by anything, but I was annoyed. They’d been dressed in fitted jeans and shirts that accentuated their muscles, whereas I’d been told to wear a short black dress that had thin shoulder straps and a sweetheart neckline that covered only my chest and shoulderblades, and hips to mid-thighs, both halves connected by a strip of fabric running up over my navel; on my feet were a pair of Cinzia Araia cut-out ankle boots. I didn’t mind dresses usually, and everyone knew I adored heeled boots, but feeling like a majority of my body was exposed to the whole world made me want to hide away. My discomfort only grew worse when the photographer burst into the room and his beady eyes roamed hungrily over every bit of my bare skin. A shiver of disgust ran down my spine. Jem patted my shoulder as we got into position. I inhaled steadily. As creepy as the photographer was, and as uneasy and naked as I felt, this was my job, and I was going to have to grit my teeth and bear it. My gaze landed on Bryan and Sam, and I slowly let myself relax. Our security was here. They would stop anything from going too wayside. 

By the time the photographer dismissed us, I had the distinct feeling he’d taken photos he hadn’t needed just for the sake of keeping me in his sights. I couldn’t get rid of the uneasiness and the turmoil in my stomach until I changed into my pair of leggings and oversized hoodie and was back on the bus to the next venue.

Louis plopped down next to me on the couch in our dressing room. “Hello, love. You seem irritated.”

“Not irritated,” I replied with a snort, turning down my iPod and removing one earbud. “Just creeped out by sleazy photographers.”

“Better not let Stefanie hear you say that. She might kill you.”

“Possibly.”

He rested his head on my shoulder, and we sat in silence for a few minutes while my bandmates finished changing and talked amongst themselves. I handed him the free earbud, and he grinned widely, shoving it in his ear. 

“Oooh, who’s this?”

“A really fuckin’ fantatsic band called Silent Playground. They’re awesome. You should definitely listen to them.”

“I like ‘em so far. Oh, no. I better go save Liam from Miss Sleazy Photographer!”

I couldn’t stop the giggle that came from me as Louis ran to playfully tackle Stefanie to the floor as Liam looked on, face scrunched up in his genuine confusion. Touring had never been so fun.


	8. eight

The hotel room was silent, none of my friends around ー or even awake. I stayed curled up on the couch in the main room of the suite, staring blankly at the television that had been playing reruns all morning. My head pounded mercilessly in time with my heartbeat, and I knew if I moved, I would more than likely puke all over the floor. For what seemed to be the millionth time since I’d woken up, I cursed myself, along with Zayn and Louis. They’d somehow managed to convince my bandmates and me to go with them to a club the night before. Niall and Liam had stayed behind, and I had honestly been a little disappointed that Niall hadn’t come with us, but I’d still had fun. I ended up drinking way more than I should have; it was about the time the world starting spinning that I began wishing DeDe was with us. She would’ve stopped me from drinking so much. I couldn’t remember how we’d gotten back to the hotel once the alcohol hit our systems and I lost track of my surroundings. I could only hope Louis and Zayn were as miserable as I was. 

The lock clicked, and Amber danced through the door a few minutes ー or maybe hours; at that point, I wasn’t sure how time was moving ー with a tray of Starbucks coffees in her hands. Harry and Liam were right behind her. Normally, I would have been thrilled to see either of them, but the expression on Harry’s face stopped me short. It’d only been a few weeks that I had known them, but I was already pretty close to them. They didn’t exactly make it difficult, what with being genuine sweethearts (except Tomlinson and Malik, for the time being), and they were ridiculously easy to get along with. So I liked to think I could read their expressions rather well by this point. Any time one of them looked upset or anxious, I tried to figure out why and help him, even Niall. We’d been talking more since that day outside of the venue, the day Patrick messaged me, and it was… wonderful. He was an interesting person, and if I was telling the truth, I could listen to his voice and relish that accent all day if I had the chance; I figured we were to the point of almost being friends. 

I slowly sat up, winced as my stomach threatened upheaval. The aching in my head ratcheted up in level; Liam handed me a water bottle, and I forced a smile in his direction as I cracked the lid open.

“What’s up?” I croaked out, taking a small sip.

“Do… do you remember anything from last night?” he asked.

“Uh, I think I remember the fourth ー no, sixth shot we took before going back to the dance floor because ‘Get Low’ came on.”

He sighed and pulled his phone from his pocket. I took it in a shaking hand and gave him a questioning look. Silently, he just gestured toward the phone, so I looked down at the screen, blinked to clear my vision. My jaw dropped. On the screen was an article with the title in big, bold letters.

**Erin and Louis: WHAT’S REALLY GOING ON???**

_ As everyone knows, Erin McCarty, 18, is the guitarist for Complete Irrationality, who is currently on tour with heartthrobs One Direction. And it seems that, contrary to her own words, Miss Erin is a LOT closer to one certain boy than the rest of the quintet ー certainly closer than she would have led us to believe! Louis Tomlinson, 19, was spotted at a popular nightclub last night with Erin, dancing pretty close together ー so close, in fact, you couldn’t slip a piece of paper between them! As the pair exited the club (accompanied by Jeremy “Jem” and Alan Rhodes, both 18; Zayn Malik, 18; and security), they were caught on camera sharing a rather passionate kiss before getting into a taxi and heading off. _

_ Erin herself, if you’ll remember, stated in a radio interview just last week: “I am most definitely not dating Louis… I could never see myself dating him… I don’t think I could ever date someone I’m touring with.” So either Erin was lying about their relationship, or she’s okay with merely-casual flings with fellow tour-mates (she was spotted on numerous occasions with Garrett Daniels of Silent Playground, many times coming out of the same hotel room or off the same bus, on an American festival tour a few years ago). _

_ So what do you all think?  _

“I think you’re a fucking moron,” I spat out in response to the author’s final question.

Before I could throw the phone across the room as I so angrily wanted to do, I passed it back to Liam and cradled my head in my hands. This was one of the worst downfalls to being relatively well-known: Every single thing I did was immediately put under the figurative microscope and scrutinised, thus allowing everyone to judge me without remorse, without needing any other reason than to gossip and spread rumours. I was just glad I hadn’t read the comments on the article; people could be vicious. I let out an involuntary huff of laughter when I remembered the mention of Garrett, the drummer of Silent Playground ー and a really close friends. The times I was coming off the same bus or out of the same room wasn’t because of  _ Garrett _ . It was, each and every time, without fail, DeDe’s fault. Delia Johansen was to my band and SP what Liam was to One Direction: the parental figure and moral compass. I’d once tried convincing Dee to get a tattoo of a compass with “Good”, “Right”, “Bad”, and “Wrong” in the places of North, East, South, and West (respectively), but she’d shot it down. And since she never drank, DeDe was always given the responsibility of making sure we didn’t do anything stupid while drunk, even if she had to lock us all in one room so we couldn’t escape. That festival tour had been one of the most amazing things to happen to me. 

With a sympathetic noise, Amber sat beside me. “You gonna be okay, hun?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” I blew out a breath, ran my hand through my hair. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“There’s a band meeting between the two bands after the show tonight,” Alan muttered as he stumbled out of his room half-asleep.

“God bless it, Alan Michael, put some fucking clothes on!” screeched Amber, covering her eyes to block out the sight of our completely naked drummer.

He shrugged but did as directed. Liam helped pull me to my feet, and I pinched his arm gently as I passed on my way to the room to change into something more presentable than a pair of boxers and a hoodie. Amber passed over a coffee once I’d changed into a long-sleeved black V-neck and a pair of wide-legged black-and-white striped cotton trousers. The hallway was empty when I stepped out of the suite, but a door opened a bit further down the hall. I slowed as the occupants stepped out but increased my pace to catch up with them. Zayn gave me a small smile, clearly still hungover; Niall, however, glared at me, his blue eyes hard and cold. My heart skipped a beat, and my breath caught in my throat at seeing that expression again after having gotten used to the warmth and care he’d been displaying. 

Before I could question it, he turned on his heel and stormed back into the suite he’d just come from; in any other situation, I’d have laughed at how he had to try to swipe his card twice before it finally worked on the third time. Ultimately, though, I wasn’t in the mood to laugh, so I turned to Zayn. He raised one shoulder quickly then let it drop. The rest of our bands eventually joined us, and we made our way down to the buses. The entire time, I noticed, Niall stayed as far away from me as possible. His lips thinned and eyes darkened when Louis laid his head on my shoulder in the elevator. I tried talking to Niall a couple of times during the day, but each time, he managed to slip away before I could get close enough. Between and after the shows, he avoided me, kept at least three people between us at all times, and treated me as if I wasn’t there ー much like the beginning. I finally had enough halfway through the band meeting in One Direction’s suite.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I snapped at him after yet another dirty glance in my direction; Liam stopped speaking abruptly, and everyone stared at me in shock. Everyone but the guy I wanted to actually pay attention to me. “Look at me.”

“Erin? Maybe you should, uh, calm down and do this later.”

“Shut up, Amber. This has nothing to do with you. What. The fuck. Is your problem?”

Niall finally spoke after a tense couple of minutes of me glaring at him. “Nothing. There is no problem.”

He shoved to his feet and started toward a door leading to one of the rooms. I jumped over the back of the couch, barely avoiding kneeing my best friend in the face, and came to a stop between him and the door before he could even touch the handle. His eyes were sharp, crackled with his anger, and deep down inside of me, I could feel myself wanting to get lost in his eyes. 

“Get out of my way.”

“Not until you tell me what your problem with me is.”

He smiled, thin and cold and humourless. “I don’t have a problem. I just don’t have time for lying whores.”

With that, he forcibly pushed me aside, walked through the doorway into the room, and slammed the door behind him.


	9. nine

I stumbled back in shock, the echo of the door slamming shut loud in the sudden silence; I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the door, even as I knew the others were staring at me. My chest clenched tightly, my breathing quickened and grew shallow. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. I gasped brokenly, turned on my heel to lean against the wall, sliding clumsily down until I hit the floor. _ Lying whore? _ His voice had been so cruel: emotionless, cold, devoid of any inflection. I brought my knees up so I could bury my face, hide away from the pitying looks I was certain were being directed my way.

I’d heard the door lock behind Niall, so unless I wanted to pay the hotel for damages caused by breaking it down or he had a sudden change of heart, there was no way that I would be able to talk this out with him. Someone squeezed my shoulder gently before they knocked on the door Niall had just escaped through. My eyes burned as tears spilled over, slipped down my cheeks one after another. I didn’t bother wiping them away, knowing they’d just be replaced by more. I wanted to move away from where I was, I knew I looked pathetic, but my body refused to cooperate. A tightness took up residence in my throat as I cried into the fabric of my pants, and I hiccuped when I tried to catch my breath. Fingers stroked softly through my hair; I glanced up at Liam, whose brown eyes were so full of sympathy. His hand was comforting as he helped me to my feet and led me to a door across the main room. I followed him blindly into the bathroom where he pushed me with gentle pressure to sit on the closed toilet. I stared at the floor while he turned the taps on the sink and soaked a washcloth. He lifted my chin with one finger and wiped at my cheeks with feather-soft motions. My lower lip trembled, and fresh tears fell as I struggled to find the words. He tossed the cloth onto the sink, wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and pulled me in as I sobbed against his abdomen.

I didn’t know why it hurt so badly when Niall has called me that ー I was no stranger to being called every variation of the word, mostly because I was the only female in a predominately-male band. I’d lost plenty of friends and boyfriends over that fact; I had been snubbed by fans many times over because of it. So for the hurt to be this bad just because Niall said it… it confused me. I couldn’t understand why it felt like someone ripped my heart from my chest and replaced it with a bomb on the verge of exploding. 

Once I calmed down and was able to breathe a bit easier, Liam wet the washcloth again and wiped away the evidence of my breakdown. He pushed a lock of hair behind my ears, held my cheeks in his hands. 

“Don’t let him get to you, love. He’ll calm down, I promise. Then… then, this will all get sorted.”

“And if he doesn’t? What if he never wants to see my face again?”

“Well, then I suppose we’ll take it a day at a time.”

I nodded, unsure and disbelieving but so desperate for him to be right. I let his words sink in, imprint themselves on my brain. And I started to let myself believe. I came onto this tour without knowing Niall; maybe I could handle not seeing him again through the rest of my life. I forced a small smile, and Liam’s face fell at how obviously fake it was, but I didn’t say anything else. I just stood and pushed past him. The others were whispering amongst themselves as I passed, and I ignored them, heading to our suite without a word. 

The dark of our room reflected my current mood perfectly; I slid into bed between the sheets and yanked the covers over my head. As much as I fought it, the urge to check Twitter overwhelmed me, and I pulled my phone from my pocket, unlocking it quickly and tapping on the icon. The tweets directed towards me ー a vast majority of the seven hundred mentions ー were enough to make the Devil himself cry. I scrolled through as many as I could before I was sobbing again. I could only imagine what Management would have to say about this latest fiasco. With a heavy, shaky sigh, I closed out of Twitter and Googled _ Garrett Daniels sex scandals _. If I was already under scrutiny for being such “an easy slut”, what he must be dealing with was unfathomable. Over 700,000 results appeared, and I was astounded at some of the articles. 

When I’d first met Garrett, he’d been a little crazy, yeah, and a little more than “a little” addicted to sex, but nowhere near the point of multiple accusations of sex tapes, a full spread in Playgirl, or paying some girls to engage in an orgy with him. A moment later, once the latest page finished loading, I lost the ability to ever again truthfully say that I had never seen Garrett Daniels’s penis. I snorted and exited the browser, tossing my phone onto the nightstand. I needed sleep ー badly ー and there was no reason to not at least try. 

Unfortunately, by the time six in the morning rolled around, I was still wide awake. Amber had come back to the room around eleven-thirty, but I pretended to be asleep so I didn’t have to deal with painful conversations or her pity. She was snoring peacefully now, as I sat in the corner of our room. All I had wanted, through the night, was to finally fall asleep. Staying awake only made me remember, replay in my mind over and over and over again, the words Niall had said the night before. A timid knock sounded at the door. I sighed but pushed myself clumsily to my feet. Zayn stood on the other side. 

“Sorry to wake you upー”

“You didn’t. Haven’t slept yet. What’s up?”

“I, er, I just wanted to apologise for what Niall said. And for dragging you lot out to party. I feel like it wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t.”

I shrugged and rubbed at the back of my neck. “I apparently had fun, so I guess it’s not that big of a deal. Comes with the territory, right?” I sniffed, waving off his protest. “And as for him, it’s not your place to say sorry. He said what he did, he needs to be the one to apologise.”

“I understand. Uh, Louis is going to try to do some damage control today, both on Twitter and in our interview. Hopefully, it helps.”

“Is there anything else?” I questioned when he continued standing there. 

“Oh, right. We’re going to hold another bands meeting this afternoon, since the one last night got a bit… interrupted.”

“All right.” I bit my lip, watched as he started to walk away. “Zayn?”

“Yeah?”

“Think he’ll ever forgive me? For whatever it was that I did so wrong?”

He sighed heavily, not meeting my eyes. “I can hope so, but I can’t say he will or won’t.”

With that, he picked his way through our suite, pulled the door closed quietly behind him. I pushed our room door shut and turned to lean against the wall. The fact that Zayn couldn’t tell me one way or the other about my chances at Niall forgiving me… it just compounded the fact that I somehow fucked up, was now suffering the consequences for whatever mistake I made, and there was no relief in sight. My heart ached deep in my chest. Amber stirred in her bed. 

“Did I jus’ hear one of the One D boys?”

“Yep.”

She sat up and peered at me through the semi-dark. “Erin? What are you doing down there?”

I chose not to answer; instead, I buried my face into my knees and forced myself not to cry yet again. I knew if I spoke, all the words and hurt and anger I was feeling would come spilling out, and I felt too fragile for that right now, like one wrong sound, and I would break into a million pieces. It perplexed me, really, how I could still be so hurt by one simple sentence, especially when said by a guy I barely knew. Sure, we were friends, or at least, I thought we were ー but the fact remained that I didn’t know him well at all. My best friend padded quietly across the room, sat by my side, and wrapped her arms around me. I looked foolish, even I knew that, but I couldn’t stop thinking about last night. I couldn’t forget the disgust on his face, the cold iciness to his hate-filled eyes. I could still hear the echoing of the door as it slammed. 

Amber slid her hand over my hair repeatedly, kissed my temple. “It’ll be all right, babe, I promise. Everything will work out.

“How? He hates me now, and I… I don’t even know what I did!”

“Fate is a fickle thing.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I mumbled, and her shoulders vibrated with laughter. 

“It means, silly girl, that nothing is set in stone. Feelings change. Our paths in life change. Just because one thing is definite now doesn’t mean it will be in a week, month, or year. Or, hell, even in a day.”

“When did you get all philosophical on me?”

“It’s something Mom’s told me hundreds of times,” she replied softly, shrugging. “It’s just stuck with me through the years.”

I scrubbed my hands over my eyes impatiently, wiping away the tears. She watched as I clambered to my feet and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. I’d remembered what Zayn said about doing “damage control”; if Zayn was already awake, then Louis probably was, too. I opened the Twitter app, sighing at the fact there were even more mentions and DMs. More and more people had been tweeting links and pictures from the night I’d been photographed kissing Louis. I ignored them, typing his handle into the search bar, and smiled slightly at his latest Tweets.

**Louis_Tomlinson: ** _You all need to stop with this nonsense about Erin and me_  
**Louis_Tomlinson: ** _There is NOTHING and never will be anything between us._  
**Louis_Tomlinson: ** _She’s one of my best mates and nothing more_  
**Louis_Tomlinson: ** _It doesn’t matter what pictures were posted or the fact we snogged. We were both beyond pissed & it doesn’t mean anything. CALM DOWN_  
**Louis_Tomlinson: ** _So! To make sure we’re all clear and on the same page: ERIN & I ARE NOT DATING/NEVER WILL BE!!!!_  
**Louis_Tomlinson: ** _I’m done. Carry on._

I couldn’t stop the quiet giggle that escaped. I had no idea what was going to happen, what kind of backlash there would be from the fans or tabloids or even our managements, but all I could think of at that moment was how grateful I was toward Louis for the messages, for taking action and doing his best to stop the insanity flooding the internet’s large masses of Twitter users and gossip blogs who were all intent on one thing: making a mountain out of a molehill and disregarding the truth.

**CIOfficialx: ** _ @Louis_Tomlinson said it better than I can but to reiterate: We’re NOT dating. So stop with the rumours/drama. We’re not in high school.-e_  
**CIOfficialx: ** _ Also if ur gonna send death threats via twitter, at least make them grammatically correct enough to read -e _

  
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

I curled up in my bunk on the bus, my mind sluggish as it replayed the events of the day. Amber had forced me to drink a 5-Hour Energy Shot two hours before the show so that I would be alert enough to get through the whole thing but tired by the time we were finished. The One Direction guys had gone to their interview during our soundcheck; I would have to wait until someone put it up on YouTube to be able to see the segment. I was only hoping Louis had been successful in his attempts to stem the flood of rumours and hate. 

The show hadn’t gone terribly, but I knew I hadn’t been at the top of my game. Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice besides Amber and Alan. I was just glad that Jem hadn’t realised, or I never would have heard the end of it. I rolled over onto my back and shifted to get more comfortable. My eyes caught sight of a piece of paper taped to the bottom of the bunk above me. I’d forgotten about the note, even though I’d stuck it there so I wouldn’t lose it. I pulled it down and opened it, using my phone’s screen as a light so I could read the number. I opened my messages app to the Compose Message screen, punched in the number, and typed out a quick message before pressing Send. It was a short text, just a quick _ Hi, who is this? _, but I was hopeful that it would distract me enough from the shit with Niall. The clock read almost midnight, so I didn’t expect a reply immediately. I turned my phone on silent and, turning over onto my stomach, closed my eyes. Thankfully, I fell asleep almost immediately. 


	10. ten

_ I clutch my head in my hands, swallow back my screams, as I kneel in the middle of the expansive room. My mother’s voice whispers across my brain: “If you ever lost or unsure of which path to take, quiet yourself and let your inner voice speak. Panic and fear only make the situation worse. Stay calm.” I try heeding her words, but I can’t ー I can’t breathe, my heart is pounding against my ribs, bile fills my throat. My reflection surrounds me in thousands of mirrors, in ever my direction I look; the girl in the mirror mocks me, makes me feel small. Everything is so confusing. I can’t remember how I got here or which way I’ve come from to get here. I drop my hands to my side, balling them into tight fists, and I force my lungs to work, to inhale and exhale as steadily as they can. I take a step forward. Nothing stops me. I take another step, and another…  
_

_ Then, there comes the sound of something heavy dragging along the smooth concrete under my feet. The noise is magnified by the large dome ceiling overhead and the sheer amount of mirrors on all sides, filling the room with hundreds of thousands of copies of me. Each of my reflections is laughing, pointing, jeering. I scramble to get my balance when I trip over nothing, push myself back to my feet and continue on in the same direction. Suddenly, I run face-first into something cold and hard. A mirror. A mirror that wasn’t there not even a second ago ー my path had been clear! A mirror that shows the crimson pouring from my nose. I can taste the blood as it floods my mouth, drips down my chin, stains my white tank-top and blends into the American flag on it. Wait, wasn’t I wearing a black T-shirt before? This isn’t my top; why am I wearing Niall’s shirt? The blood doesn’t stop even as I cup a hand over my mouth and nose, oozing between my fingers. _

_ Rivers stream to the floor, gather in large pools. _

_ The blood doesn’t stop, even as I press a shirt to my face. _

_ The pools become ponds, lakes, oceans. It’s to my knees. The mirrors scrape against the floor as they inch dangerously closer. My reflections’ laughter is louder now. _

_ I feel faint, but I force myself to remain conscious, on my feet, as the red ocean rises to my thighs. _

_ The blood doesn’t stop. Now black tendrils mix into the red ー thick, dark, tarry curls that pull at my ankles, my knees, thickening the blood until it’s a deep ruby colour ー until it’s the consistency of wet sand. _

_ My mother’s voice whispers across my brain: “Panic and fear only make the situation worse.” But what does mother know? _

_ The blood doesn’t stop. The black tar slimes closer, sucks at my legs and hips and my fingertips. The ocean rises rapidly to my chest, my neck. I look around, searching for an exit. All I can see in the mirrors are my reflections as they’re swallowed up by the ruby ocean. _

_ Panic and fear only make the situation worse. _

_ Panic and fear in my wide blue eyes before I’m finally, yet too soon, pulled under the surface; my mouth and nose and ears are filled with blood and tar, blocking all senses. I’m finally, yet too soon, pulled under the surface even as I struggle. I’m finally, yet too soon, pulled under the surface ー to my death. _

I awoke abruptly, bolting upright and banging my head against the bunk above me. I gagged on the bile that was creeping up my throat. My heart raced, beat rapidly in my chest, and I trembled all over. My bunk was dark, and it took me a few moments to realise I was no longer in the dream ー the nightmare. I pushed aside the black curtains covering the windows; bright sunshine immediately filled the bunk, and I could have cried with the sight. The environment outside stayed still, and the bus wasn’t vibrating with motion. I grabbed my phone and scrambled out of my bunk. Somebody stopped me before I could reach the door, and I struggled against them, scratching at their hand on my arm. My fear and panic made me blind to their face. Finally, I lost it. 

“Let me go!” 

My plea came out on a scream; whoever had a hold of me immediately let go of me as if they’d been scalded, and I fumbled with the door handle, my hands shaking violently, but I managed to fling it open. I tripped down the steps in my rush, and I gasped in shallow breaths of fresh air. I barely made it a couple of steps away before I stumbled, collapsed to my knees. I caught myself on tremulous arms and vomited across the asphalt. A sob ripped from my throat when a pair of hands grabbed my shoulders. I tried, I tried so hard to fight the person off ー the sensation of their grip was too similar to the tar in my nightmare ー but they grabbed onto my wrists and squeezed tightly. 

“Erin! Erin, Erin, c’mon, look at me. It’s okay, you’re okay. Ah, there ya are. Are you all right? Erin?”

Without warning, I lunged forward; in his confusion and surprise, Louis’s hold on my wrists loosened, and I flung my arms around him and sobbed into his chest. He held me close, rubbed his hand across my back, whispering soothing words the entire time. He shifted my body so that I wasn’t half-lying on the ground any longer, causing me to lean against him. I shook as I fell apart. Slowly, my surroundings seemed to deep into my awareness the longer he comforted me; I pulled away once I calmed down enough, but I couldn’t stop the tears. His blue eyes were dark with concern under furrowed brows, and I ignored his gaze while I wiped my cheeks and mouth on the sleeve of my sweater. Fans pressed against the fence; I could see them straining to get a good photograph of what was going on. I smiled apologetically at Louis. 

“Thanks. And I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, his hand coming up to rub circles on my back. “Don’t be. It’s fine. What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I paused, examining his face closer; my fingers trembled as I reached up to touch the red spot on his chin. “Oh, my gods, did I hit you?

“Eh, maybe a little. Don’t worry about it.”

“But what if it bruises? Lou, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Well, if it bruises, I can tell everyone not to get on your bad side.”

“Then they’ll think I’m abusive and violent!” I protested before narrowing my eyes at his mischievous grin. 

“Ah, but I got you to smile, didn’t I?”

“Don’t be an ass,” I muttered with a roll of my eyes and a reluctant smile on my face. 

I allowed him to help me to my feet, and he helped brush dirt off my pants before leaning down to grab my phone off the ground. I scrubbed at my face with the clean sleeve of my hoodie, ran my fingers through my hair, and reached out for my phone. He looked up from the screen with a confused expression on his face. 

“How do you have Niall’s number?”

“_Niall_?”

“Yeah. He texted you. I mean, the number isn’t saved in your phone, but I’d know it anywhere. It’s Niall’s number.”

_____________

I reread the message for the fiftieth time in less than an hour. Amber moved around me in the bathroom like a dancer well-practised at her craft, pinning my hair back and applying makeup with a light hand. I couldn’t bring myself to reply to the text. Not now that I knew who it was. It just brought unanswered questions to the front of my mind, and I had enough on my plate to worry about as it was. 

My bandmates has given me space since the incident this morning. Amber was the only one acting like nothing had happened. She’d gotten me coffee and chosen my outfit without a word about my freak-out, and I was incredibly grateful to her for that. I locked my phone and tipped my head back a bit so she could drag a liner pencil across my eyelids. 

“So did anyone tell you about the blended show you’ll be doing?”

“The what?”

“I’ll take that as a no.” She sighed, and I could see the frustration even with my eyes closed. “You and One Direction ー and by you, I mean Complete ー are gonna do a few songs together on the last night.”

“Oh. Is that what the meetings have been about?”

“Keep your eyes closed, dummy, I’m not done. But yeah, it’s what the meetings have been about. I can’t wait, y’know? It’ll be fun to see, because both bands have such different sounds.”

I decided to tune her out then, because I knew how she could be whenever something came along that she really liked. She was a huge fan of the band and had become a pretty heavy listener of One Direction while on this tour, so a mixed show like that was right up her alley. She finally stepped back after a couple of minutes, proclaiming to be done, and I stood up, stuffed my phone in my pocket, and headed toward the stage. 

The fans screamed as loud as ever, but I knew the fact that I was on autopilot through the entire show was obvious by the glare Jem sent my way anytime he wasn’t facing the crowd. When I stepped back to get a drink of water while he spoke to the audience, Alan gave me a pointed look, mouthing _ Get it together _. I nodded, drained the bottle, and went back to my place. I winced when my fingers hit the wrong chord and quickly got back to the right ones, but that was evidently the last straw for Jem. His show-smile slipped just enough that I knew to prepare myself for a blow-up once we were backstage. 

“I don’t know what the _ fuck _ your problem is, but that out there? That was bullshit. Do you wanna ruin our last three shows? Because that’s exactly what’ll happen if you keep it up. Then who will want to tour with us? Nobody.” He poked my shoulder hard with his finger, and I found it hard to maintain eye contact as he kept going, “Nobody wants to tour with a band whose guitarist suddenly decides she can get by on subpar, mediocre performances!” 

I waited until he was done then walked away without replying. He was right, I _ knew _he was right. I had to get my mind back on track. I sighed, sent a text to my mom, and went to find Bryan for a cigarette and some fresh air. 

The next handful of days went by in a blur of routine. That was my biggest problem with touring: It was always the same things, every day ー wake up, promote albums and ourselves in interviews, soundcheck, chat with fans via social media, show, meet-and-greets, sleep, repeat. I absolutely loved playing music and seeing the world, but by the last few shows, I was almost sick of our own songs. I also hated that there was very little time to actually _ see _the world. I wanted more time to wander around and explore. I wanted to be able to talk to fans for more than a minute or two, five at maximum. I couldn’t wait to be back home, though, to be around my family and to be making new music. 

The last show finally arrived ー the show the others had been looking forward to with so much barely-concealed glee. The one for which we’d been rehearsing nonstop for the last three days. Liam and Jem had stayed up late the night before finalising details in the main room then via Skype once they were told to go to bed. The fans had no clue what we were planning; I was excited to see how they would react. 

I laughed and let my fingers play the opening chords to “Absolute” quietly as Jem talked about how great of a time we’d been having on this tour. His words were cut off by a wall of screaming when the 1D guys came out from backstage. He glanced back at me, and I shrugged. 

“Better let ‘em have what they want, Jem!” Brett said into his microphone.

I hadn’t thought it was possible for the screams to get louder, but they did as we all launched into the song. Harry, Louis, and Brett shared one microphone; Liam, Zayn, and Jem on another; and Niall and me on mine. Thankfully, the joy I felt to be singing made it easier to ignore how close he was or the memories reminding me just how long it’d been since we talked. His hand came up to rest on my shoulder as he got into singing his part. My skin tingled under the warmth, and I bit my lip and forced myself to focus. Once the song was finished, my band bowed and blew kisses to the crowd before filing offstage to let One Direction do their set. We didn’t even bother going to the dressing room to get cleaned up; we stood and sang along in the wings as our friends performed. 

“I’ve tried playing it cool, but when I’m looking at you,” Liam sang out, and I giggled, running out onto the stage to join him as my bandmates followed at a more leisurely pace.

“I can’t ever be brave, ‘cause you make my heart race!”

After the show, I found myself in the middle of five sweaty guys; even Niall seemed to have forgotten his problem with me in the rush of the concert’s success. We shared a six-way hug, laughing and shouting happily at each other. But when I pulled away, tears were threatening to slip from Louis, Harry, and Liam’s eyes. I swallowed thickly around the lump in my throat and let my arms fall from around Zayn and Niall’s shoulders. Stefanie had been away for the past four shows due to having prior commitments with another band, but she’d come back specially for tonight. She stood a few feet away, snapping photos as we all said our goodbyes to each other. I ignored the dampness to Louis’s skin and buried my face into his neck, sniffled as he held me tightly. A squeak escaped when he started spinning me much like he’d done so many times during this tour. 

I continued waving to the guys through the back window of our bus while we pulled out of the parking lot. They’d followed us out to the buses to say a last farewell without our crews watching us. I’d gotten the numbers of Harry and Liam; Zayn had given me his, too, but said it would probably be changed soon anyway, so he would just text me. Niall had hesitated then waved at me as I got settled in on the couch; something in my chest loosened just a little, but I didn’t invest much thought into it. 

Once they disappeared from view, I wiped the tears from my cheeks, sat down properly, and opened the laptop. My fingers tapped idly at the casing as I thought about what I wanted to say in the post. 

_ It is with immense sadness that we, Complete Irrationality, say goodbye to the fantastic, amazing, talented, wonderful lads of One Direction. We’ve had such a great time on this tour, and I will always always always cherish the time we’ve had with them ー and YOU! I really, really hope you all enjoyed the tour as much as we did! We’ve made new friends out of every single one of you fans and Harry and Liam and Zayn and Louis and Niall! _

_ In the ever-relevant words of Fall Out Boy: Thanks for the memories! _

_ Love, Erin xx _


	11. eleven

I sighed and burrowed deeper into the blankets; I was technically awake, but I kept my eyes closed so that I could enjoy the feeling of having a warm, cosy bed ー _ my _ warm, cosy bed ー beneath me. I’d only been home for a couple of days, so my mother was allowing me to be lazy. Was I taking full advantage of it? Absolutely yes, I was, and I didn’t feel guilty about it, because I knew by tomorrow, at the latest, she’d expect me to act like a part of civilised society. I was eighteen, fresh off an overseas tour, and ready to be as lazy and unproductive as I was allowed to be.

Sunlight streamed through the window, landing in thick horizontal stripes across my bed. Birds chirped and flitted around in the trees outside; the telltale sounds of the garbage truck making its rounds outside was barely enough to frustrate me. _ Not today _ , I thought, smiling to myself. I dozed off a bit as the morning stretched on. Eventually, I opened my eyes, stretched every muscle possible in my body, and then collapsed into the mattress. Good Charlotte, Simple Plan, My Chemical Romance, and Green Day stared down at me from the posters on the pale blue walls, separated by photographs of the band at several gigs, friends I’d grown up with, and postcards I had gathered on our tours of the United States. I knew if I looked down at the floor, the white carpeting would be cluttered with clothes, suitcases, and books, and the white paint in the closet would be covered with various messages from my bandmates ー all souvenirs of big dreams and even bigger ambition. The notes still made me smile as I remembered the day Jem, Alan, Brett, and Amber had written them (even though Brett had no idea why we were even doing it, as evidenced by his _ I feel dumb but uh… let’s go! _) My mom had threatened to paint over them hundreds of times since then but never followed through. I had a feeling that she still wouldn’t even after I finally moved out.

I shoved the blankets back and padded leisurely down the hall to the bathroom. My feet made soft _ pit-pat _ sounds against the hardwood floor, and I did a little hop over the squeaky plank right outside the guest room. I stopped at the door; the room beyond stood as barren as it always had. It wasn’t until I was almost thirteen that I figured out why my parents had bought a three-bedroom house when a two-room would have been enough for the three of us. The spare one had been designated as the nursery; closest to the master bedroom, it would have been perfect for a baby’s room. My mother had wanted so badly to have another child, wanted to give me a sibling so much, she could nearly taste it. She’d convinced Patrick that it was the perfect house, and he’d given in to her easily enough. Unfortunately, a new baby was never conceived. After the first three years of trying with no success, Patrick began staying away from his family; most of the time, he didn’t come home for days on end. My mother always told me he was working hard to provide for us, but at nineteen, I knew her words for what they were: lies, so that I wouldn’t hate my father, so I wouldn’t have any hard feelings toward him. Unnecessary precautions, if I was to be honest, but I appreciated her for her effort. It wasn’t hard to figure out that Patrick had been sleeping around in the last year before he abandoned us and eventually found that living a double life was nothing like the movies, so he came home late one night, packed his things, and was gone from our lives.

_ I jerked awake. My five-year-old brain struggled to figure out what had woken me up. Then I heard it again: loud banging coming from downstairs. I made sure Bun-bun was tucked under my arm then hurried out of my bed and down the hall to the staircase. Daddy came into view first. He set two suitcases down by the front door and turned. That was when he caught sight of me standing at the top of the stairs. _

_ “Go back to bed, pumpkin.” _

_ “Daddy? Where are you going?” _

_ “I said go back to bed, Erin.” _

_ “Are you leaving, Daddy? Can I go, too?” _

_ “No, you have, you have to stay here with your mommy.” _

_ My chin wobbled, and I stumbled down a couple of steps. “But why are you leaving? Don’t go, Daddy, why can’t I go?” _

_ “I have to, Erin. Please go back to bed.” _

_ With that, he gave Mommy a mean look, opened the door, and carried his belongings outside. I raced down the stairs as fast as my little legs could carry me and out onto the front porch. There was a car sitting out front, its lights on and engine rumbling; Bun-bun fell from my arms when I ran to the front gate as it started driving away, down the sidewalk as I yelled for Daddy to come back. I tripped and fell over a crack in the sidewalk, sobbing when the car disappeared around the corner and I realised Daddy wasn’t going to turn around. Mommy picked me up, and I cried into her shoulder as she carried me up the stairs to my room, tucked me into bed again, and sat beside me. She’d brought Bun-bun back in, and though he was a little dirty, I clutched him tightly to my chest and let Mommy run her hand over my hair. I wanted to ask her all the questions that were running through my mind, but I was scared that saying them out loud would make everything more real, more terrifying, and it would make it true that Daddy wasn’t coming back. I eventually fell asleep with Mommy by my side. _

I turned away from the empty room and the memories it brought with it, closing the door on the dark emptiness. I’d long ago become accustomed to the ache of not having my father around, but that didn’t mean I wanted to continuously relive the moment he left. After using the bathroom and washing my hands, I headed downstairs and set to work brewing a pot of coffee. A note was pinned to the fridge with the magnet I’d made when I was in third grade; my gap-toothed smile stared back at me, and I huffed out a laugh before pulling the paper off. _ Meatloaf for dinner. Get beef out around 2, please. Love you! _I set the note down and made my way to the cupboard for a mug. 

The quiet of the house became overwhelming rather quickly as I stood at the kitchen sink and stared out the window. I sipped at my coffee, watching the old couple across the street putter around in their garden. Finally, I grabbed my phone and opened the messaging app.

**To: Jem-Jam ** _ When are we recording again? _

**From: Jem-Jam ** _ We’ve only been home 3 days. Chill, killer.  
_ **From: Jem-Jam ** _ Nah seriously tho. Alan just asked me the same thing. Band meeting at 1?? _

**To: Jem-Jam ** _ Works for me, see you then _

I added a ridiculous amount of kissy-face emojis before sending the message off. I carried my coffee up the stairs, past the wall of all of my school pictures, and into my bedroom. After changing into a pair of grey skinny jeans (Amber had gotten me hooked on the damn style of pants) and a tight, bright goldenrod Def Leppard shirt, I hurried down the stairs to shove my feet into a pair of beat-up Vans, grabbing my bag and car keys on my way out the door. My truck started up with a grumbling roar, and I grinned brightly at the sound. It was an older truck, but it ran like a beauty; there was no way I would ever willingly sell the gorgeous midnight-blue pickup I’d bought from our 75-year-old neighbour a couple years ago. 

I jammed my sunglasses onto my face, waved to the old couple, and pulled out of the driveway. A laugh bubbled out of me when I caught sight of their contemptuous looks, most probably at the noise my truck made.I made one quick stop at the gas station a few minutes from the house to grab a soda and some candies. The drive to the high school was full of music and memories. I hadn’t been this way in a long time. I parked in front of the building thirty minutes later and headed inside after locking the truck. As was my luck, the principal was the first person I saw.

“Well, well, Miss McCarty. It’s been a while.”

“Hi, Mister Laramie. Yep, almost three years.”

“Did you ever get your diploma? Oh, wait, no. You dropped out at the end of your sophomore year.”

I gritted my teeth and forced a smile. “No, unfortunately, no diploma, but I did get my GED and now I tour all over the world making music and a helluva lot more money than you do, so honestly? I’d have to say I’m doing a lot better than you thought I would.”

I pushed past him and started toward the English department. I stopped by my old locker ー 215 ー and ran my finger lightly over the cool metal. They’d buffed out and painted over the initials I carved into it my first day of school, but that was okay. Maybe some other kid could do the same in the future. The door to my mother’s classroom was closed, and through the glass, I could see her standing by the dry-erase board in the front of the room. Her lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying through the door; judging by the fact that no one had anything on their desks, the period was almost over, so she was most likely giving last-minute instructions. I knocked twice on the door and entered without waiting for any acknowledgement from Mom. Whispers immediately began racing through the room; my mother shook her head with a smile.

“Well, I suppose that puts an end to me trying to teach anything new today.”

“I grabbed those caramels you like?” I announced apologetically, and she didn’t hesitate to reach a hand out and wiggle her fingers.

I passed the baggie over and hopped up to sit on the edge of her desk. My fingers immediately made their way to the cup of paperclips; I listened idly as my mom spoke to her students, twisting and hooking paperclips together then undoing my work. The bell rang after a few minutes, but not one student moved. They were all staring at me with wide eyes. I rolled my eyes, grabbed a caramel from the bag, and pressed a kiss to my mom’s cheek. As I walked backwards toward the door, I told her about my plans to go over to Jem’s house that afternoon. She nodded, waving me off so that maybe the teens would leave.

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

I smirked at my reflection in the mirror then sighed. I might have looked hot, but I wasn’t really feeling it. I’d had a weird dream last night, and I woke up feeling like something was missing, something important. I checked out my outfit again ー black skinny jeans that were tucked into the top of my heeled ankle boots, a black off-the-shoulder crop top, and a white tank-top underneath. Sighing, I slipped my necklace around my throat, settled the arrow and heart over my the centre of my collarbone, and stabbed a pair of large hoop earrings through my ears. After swiping on some lip gloss, I rushed downstairs, pulling my hair into a loose braid as I went. My mother looked up from her spot at the dining table where she was grading papers.

“Be careful, Erin. Remember, if you’re going to drinkー”

“I know, I know. Drink, don’t drive. You won’t be upset if you have to come pick me up at four-thirty in the morning, but you’ll be damn well pissed if you have to go identify my body at the morgue at four-thirty in the morning.”

She smiled and gestured me closer. I leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Stay safe. Tell everyone I said hi.”

“I will. Love you!”

The party was already in full swing by the time I pulled up between a Jeep and a Camaro in the front yard. I tucked my wallet under the seat, checked my makeup in the visor mirror, and pushed my door open. I slipped out of the seat and slammed the door shut behind me. A group of drunken dancers latched onto me as I attempted to bypass them. I laughed and let myself be moved to the thumping music until I got to the far end of the group, then I disentangled myself and moved on.

Garrett cheered loudly and pulled me into a tight hug as soon as he saw me stepping into the house. I ducked past a handful of scantily-clad girls, pushed my way through the mass of gyrating bodies to the kitchen. Chase had just finished filling a red plastic cup with Jack Daniels and Coke; I grabbed it from his hands with a bright, innocent smile when he turned around.

“Oh, holy fuck, Erin! You’re lucky I didn’t swing first, ask questions later!”

“It’s wonderful to see you, too, asshole,” I said while embracing him tightly. “Thanks for the drink!”

He smacked my ass as I walked away, and my laughter was swallowed up by the loud music. I moved to the beat of the song that was playing on my trek to the backyard. I loved going to the parties that Garrett and Chase threw, but staying inside, especially on gorgeous end-of-summer nights, just always seemed so stupid. Besides, the backyard was by far the best thing about the house. I came to a stop at the edge of the deck and gazed around, trying to determine who I should speak to first. Hot breath swept along the back of my neck when a low voice whispered in my ear.

“You’re too pretty to be alone.”

I turned on my heel, ready to yell at someone, but my jaw dropped. I let out a disbelieving laugh. “_Harry_! Oh, my Gods! I didn’t think you’d be here. You ass!”

“What?” he said with a cheeky grin, feigning innocence while I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“You told me you guys you couldn’t make it because you’re in the studio.”

“Clearly, I lied.”

I pulled away, checked out the newcomers to the yard. “Oh, my _ Gods _, Louis is here, too?”

“So are Liam and Zayn!” he called after me, now holding my drink so that I could run toward Tomlinson.

Louis caught me in his arms, spinning me in circles, just like he had on tour. I couldn’t believe they’d shown up. We may have just seen each other a couple of weeks prior to the party, but it was great to see them again. Louis disappeared back in the house after a few minutes, and Harry came up to my side, passing over my drink. I flopped down into a chair by the pool, immediately striking up a conversation with the few people there. I’d been to enough of Garrett’s parties to know that if you didn’t talk to at least five people in the first ten minutes of your arrival, he’d keep pushing drinks on you to “get ya to loosen up a bit, have fun, it’s a _ parrrttyyyy_.” I was in the middle of telling a girl named Hannah about our last show with One Direction when someone from behind cut me off mid-sentence, the nasal tone instantly grating.

“Excuse me, bitch.”

I sighed, crossed my eyes at Hannah; she giggled, and I felt pretty awesome about that as I turned around. Then I saw who it was. “Natalie!”

Natalie Reed and I had met at a cheap hotel when both of our bands were first starting out; the rooms were disgusting and smelled like stagnant piss, so I’d gone to the front desk to complain ー and quite literally ran into Nat who was doing the same thing. We’d been almost instant friends, though we were so different from each other. It wasn’t long before I was talking to her and DeDe like we’d never separated. Hannah drifted off with a quiet “I wonder where my boyfriend went to”, and I smiled at her before going back to telling the girls about the tour. It felt weird to say “They’re all good dudes” about the One Direction boys when it included Niall, but he really was a great guy ー when he wasn’t being such a jerk ー and I didn’t want to get into the details of the mess we’d made of our friendship. Gods, thinking about him hurt. I had put a massive effort into keeping him from entering my mind over the past two weeks, but late at night, when my walls were down and sleep made me vulnerable, he’d creep into my thoughts, my dreams. Waking up to the reality of him hating me caused a dull ache that just wouldn’t go away. Delia opened her mouth to say something, probably about the fact I’d gone quiet, but before she could speak, Louis interrupted with a bowl of vodka-bears. I made introductions, stifling a laugh at the way that both Nat and Lou were clearly checking each other out. I gave DeDe a sly smile when they walked away so that Natalie could show Louis where the bathroom was before they went to smoke with Zayn and Garrett.

“Ya know, I could’ve sworn he’d just asked me where the toilet was, like, _ right _ before you guys showed up.”

She giggled and sipped her water. “Well, Nat’s already said she’ll get his digits, so…”

“He’s wonderful, Dee, I promise. I’d eviscerate him if I thought he’d hurt her.”

“I trust you,” she said with a sigh, fingers peeling at the label on her bottle. “It’s just hard to trust that a guy, _ any _guy, isn’t going to get what he wants then walk away. I mean, I’ve got my boyfriend, yeah, but it took a long time and a lot of heartbreak to find him, you know?”

“Oh, yeah, I know that feeling.”

I walked away before the words could come out, back into the kitchen where I found Logan, a regular at Garrett’s parties, mixing up another batch of vodka-bears. Without hesitation, my hand shot out, grabbed up the bag of gummy treats and nearly-full bottle of booze, and I cradled the items to my chest as I slithered between the partygoers. 

Liam found me sitting on the swing in the furthest corner of the yard a few hours later, arguing vehemently with DeDe. She was trying to convince me that I’d had enough alcohol, and I was stubbornly refusing to accept what she was saying. Because she was wrong. Sure, I’d finished off the handle of vodka and was now a quarter of the way through a bottle of Jack. And _ maybe _ my words were slurring, but I wasn’t drunk. I was just tipsy.

“C’mon, Erin, let’s get you home.”

“I’m no’ goin’ ‘nee-where, Dee.”

“I’ll take her,” Liam offered. “From what I’ve heard, you’ll have to babysit the rest.”

Delia sighed, running a hand through her hair. While she was distracted, I shovelled another handful of gummy bears into my mouth and washed them down with a mouthful of whisky. She gave Liam a tired smile and headed off. I didn’t care where to, all I knew was I was glad she wasn’t on my case any more about leaving. 

“I’m not moving,” I declared and glared at Liam.

He blinked at me a few times, then shrugged and picked me up bridal-style. Ignoring my protests, he carried me easily to my truck, put me in the passenger seat, and buckled me in. I giggled wildly as I repeatedly pressed kisses to the side of his face and skull as he did what needed to be done. He sent me a smile, the one that meant he was going to be patient and kind and that’s what I loved about Liam. He was always so great. I glanced out the window and saw Shay, one of the half-naked girls I’d met during the party. I shouted her name, and she screeched and ran to the side of the truck, her friend Connor following behind. Her lipstick was smeared from too many shots, and I knew she was getting it on my cheek, but I didn’t mind. I leaned out the window as much as I could and held up a finger.

“Iー I need m’ keys. Can you, uhhh, can you bring them? They have a cat thingy on them.”

“I got it,” Connor said.

Liam waited unhurriedly as Connor jogged back into the house to search for my keys. Shay glanced at my friend before sneaking a ZipLoc baggie of vodka-bears into my hand. I squealed in delight, ripped open the bag, and put as many in my mouth that would fit; unfortunately, Liam wasn’t nearly as amused, and he yanked the bag from my hands and tossed it out the window. The bears landed in the yard amidst a cheer from a group of people, and they dropped to their knees to gather up any that had spilled.

I giggled as I tripped over the step for the third time. Liam mumbled something, but I ignored him. I was still upset that he’d wasted my boozy treats, no matter how amazing he was. Finally, we made it to the top of the stairs, and I stared around to see if my mother’s light was on. The strip below her door was dark, so I let out a quiet cheer and allowed my friend to lead me to my bedroom. I collapsed onto my bed, flung my arms out, and stared with wide eyes at the ceiling as Liam exited the room. He came back moments later with a glass of water and two ibuprofen. I laid completely still as he untied my boots and slid them off my feet. His face blurred when he leaned over me to take my hair out of its braid. I narrowed my eyes as I stared at the curve of his jaw; my thoughts were disjointed, hazy, when I reached up to hook my fingers in the collar of his shirt. His brow furrowed in confusion, and I merely smiled and closed the distance between our mouths. 

Something in me awakened instantly, coming alive at the spark of heat that flared and travelled down my spine. The fire only grew hotter when he started kissing back. I deepened the kiss, brought our bodies close together. He tasted good, like mint and cola and whisky ー or maybe the whisky was me. Either way, I chased that taste as I slid my hands across his back, relished the way the muscles rippled beneath my touch. His hand buried in my hair, the other splaying across my hip. I lifted my hips, grinning into the kiss when I felt the hard length stirring between his thighs. It was a struggle, but I somehow managed to wrap one of my legs around the back of his, keeping his body so close to mine, and I was on the verge of needing to breathe, but I didn’t want to give this up. He abruptly jerked away as soon as my fingers disappeared into the waistband of his jeans, itching and burning with the desire to touch. He moved quickly, putting distance between us, and sat on the edge of the bed. I stared at him, perplexed and hurt and wanting.

“We can’t… we can’t do this, Erin.”

“Why not? We’re both adults.”

“You’re drunk. You know you’d regret it in the morning.”

“But would you?” I whispered, crawling over to straddle his lap.

His heart raced beneath my hands on his chest, and I could feel the strong, fluttering pulse under my mouth against his neck. I shifted, shoved my hips down until I felt him against my core; his hips jerked under me, and I gasped into his skin at the sensation. His fingers wrapped around my wrists, and he gently pushed me back onto the mattress.

“We are not doing this.”

I pouted. “But I want to. And so do you,” I added with a wild gesture toward his crotch. Doing so only brought my attention to the erection he was sporting, and my palms tingled with the want to wrap around him.

“Oh, love, no. No, you don’t. That’s the alcohol talking.”

For some inexplicable reason, his words shattered a part of me deep down, and tears immediately filled my eyes. I gasped against the pain, the hurt, the ache. He reached out for me, but I slapped his hand away and shoved myself further away from him.

“Fine. Go, then. Just go. I don’t need you. I don’t need Niall. I don’t need _ anyone _.”

I flung myself face-first down onto the bed, burying my face in my pillow, and I let go of the torrent of mixed-up emotions inside of me. The door closed quietly moments later, Liam leaving me to cry myself to sleep.


	12. twelve

I poured another cup of coffee ー the third since I’d woken up an hour and a half ago. My mother had sent a text on her way out the door when she went to work telling me to make sure I took ibuprofen; I didn’t bother responding, though I did swallow down the medicine that Liam had left on my nightstand and drank half of the glass of water before my stomach revolted. Then I’d spent fifteen minutes in the bathroom, regretting my decision to go to Garrett’s party. I’d managed to settle my stomach enough to take another couple of ibuprofen and parked myself on the sofa in the living room with a mug of coffee; though it was cold by now, it was still good enough to drink in hopes of getting rid of the pounding headache I had.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, groaning when flashes of the night before encroached. I had made such a fool of myself. There was absolutely no way Liam left not hating me for my actions. And to be honest, I couldn’t blame him ー I was an utter embarrassment, and I wouldn’t want to continue being friends with someone if they’d done what I had. I stared at my phone blankly, the dark screen mocking me for yet another friendship ruined. I squeaked in surprise when it beeped and vibrated on the table. 

**From: Bear ** _ Hey, love. How are you feeling today? _

**To: Bear ** _ Ughhhh. I am so so so so sorry about last night. I don’t remember much but what I do remember is just ugh.  
_ **To: Bear ** _ I need to stay away from alcohol :( _

**From: Bear ** _ Let’s just pretend that mishap never happened ;) _

**To: Bear ** _ I can gladly do that. Now to answer your question. I feel like shittttt. My head feels like it’s splitting in half and I spent far too long this morning throwing up _

**From: Bear ** _ That tends to happen when you’re hungover. See why I don’t drink :P _

**To: Bear ** _ I’m done drinking. For the rest of my life. lol _

**From: Bear ** _ Good luck with that. _

My heart settled in my chest at the text conversation. Liam didn’t hate me, so I could breathe easier now. I just had to make sure I never put him in that kind of position again. I couldn’t ask him to forgive and forget another incident like that again. I curled up on the couch cushion, tugged the throw blanket further over me, and fell asleep once more.

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

Goosebumps raced up my flesh as I stepped out of the shower, and I quickly wrapped a towel around my body. The air in the bathroom was humid; I grabbed my makeup bag and hairbrush, made sure the taps were completely closed to the tub, and made my way to my bedroom. Shivering, I scrubbed my body dry and quickly dressed in a pair of stretchy purple yoga pants, a sleeveless white T-shirt, and my Vans. The brush bristles caught roughly in the tangles in my hair. I winced and tugged harder. After a moment, the brush went through smoothly, and I braided my hair as swiftly as possible.

I gave up trying to do my eyeliner when the right eyelid had a thicker line than the left. I ran a makeup-remover wipe over the mess and just swiped on some mascara instead. My mom was in the living room reading essays when I headed downstairs. She glanced up at me from over her reading glasses then turned her attention back to the papers. 

“Gonna head to Jem’s. He was supposed to talk to the studio yesterday, so…” 

“Okay, honey. Drive safe.”

“Of course. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too, baby.” 

The ride to Jem’s was quiet, uneventful. I kept thinking about the party, everything that had happened after, and wondering whether Liam had told anyone else what I’d done. I could only hope he hadn’t; I didn’t necessarily want the awkwardness that would come with the truth being out, but I would deserve it if he had. I found a space across the parking lot and pulled in. Jem’s neighbour was out on her balcony, and she waved a gnarled hand. I wasn’t surprised to see her customary cigarette between her fingers. I waved back then headed inside the building. 

The living room was empty when I walked into my best friend’s apartment, so I kicked off my shoes and picked my way around the notebooks, papers, and boxes of equipment scattered on the floor. The rest of the band ー and Amber ー were in the spare room that our vocalist had soundproofed and converted to a practice/writing room. I slapped Alan’s hand in a high-five on my way past him to plop down on the enormous bean-bag chair beside Amber. She scooted closer until our hips pressed together. I reached across her for the old First Act I’d learned to play on and lazily strummed a few chords. Jem bounced on the balls of his feet, clapping his hands once to get our attention. 

“Okay, so. The studio finally got back to me. We’re scheduled to go in starting tomorrow morning. So be up and ready by nine, you two,” he ordered, shooting a look at Amber and me. “I’ll be around to pick you up at quarter after.”

Amber cocked her head. “You mean I get to be there, too?”

“Don’t ask such stupid questions,” Brett sighed, and I turned my head to look at him; he avoided my gaze and focused on tuning his bass. 

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Both of you, knock it off. This shit is getting ridiculous. All you two ever do is ignore each other or snap at each other, and we are _ all _ sick of it. So stop the crap, or I’ll lock you two in a room and see who kills who faster.”

Amber stared dumbfounded at Jem before nodding slowly. Brett looked unaffected, but we all knew he would take our singer’s words to heart. Jem didn’t often lose his temper ー he was too relaxed for that, almost a pushover ー so when he finally snapped, it was a damn good idea to listen to him. After his outburst, things settled, and we got down to business. We had written seven songs for the new album in the last two weeks while waiting for the studio to get us in, but it took more than a handful of tracks to make a record. 

By the time we ended the session, the sun had set hours ago, and my phone said it was almost eleven at night. I kissed Alan’s cheek, ruffled Jem’s hair, and flicked Brett in the forehead as I led Amber out the door and to my truck. She was half-asleep when I pulled up outside of her house; I shook her shoulder gently until her eyes opened again. I watched as she stumbled up the sidewalk and waited until she’d gone inside before driving off. 

My mother glanced up quickly when I walked into the house. I heard the unmistakable sound of a button on our house phone being pressed behind her back. I raised an eyebrow at the uncomfortable smile she was giving me. 

“Dinner’s in the oven for you. I didn’t know when you’d be home, so…”

“Thanks, Mom. You, you all right?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” she laughed nervously, her hand coming up to twist at a lock of hair. 

“You’re being weird.”

“Oh, hush. Go eat, then get to bed. You know Jem won’t be happy if you sleep in tomorrow.”

I hesitated then shrugged. If she wanted me to know what was up, she would tell me. I trusted her enough about that. 

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

“Oh, come on, Alan! It’s not that hard to hit a few drums properly!” 

I groaned and covered my face with my hands. It had been a long week and a half; Jem had become increasingly unhappy with our efforts and performance while recording. Because he continued to interrupt us every time he found a flaw with something we’d done, no matter how minor, we only had one track laid down. Even the producer was just as annoyed as we were. 

Alan threw his drumsticks at his twin. “Then you fucking do it, if you think it’s so easy!”

“Or how about _ you _do your job the right way!” 

Jem stomped out of the recording booth, and I ducked my head as he passed. I was not going to be his next target. Not again. He’s already complained seventeen times about a chord I played being “off” without any sort of solution in mind. Amber had stopped video-taping us the second day when Jem’s attitude started to sour. She confided in me that she didn’t want the fans to ever see that side of Jem, not like we’d ever seen it before. Jem was a perfectionist, we all knew that, but he had never spent so much time and energy to correct us during the process. He would point out something that didn’t sound right but would always have a suggestion on his tongue. I was honestly shocked Brett hadn’t attempted to strangle our singer yet. The bassist now seemed to be in a perpetual foul mood, constantly glowering at everyone, and if looks could kill, we all would have been six feet underground midway through the week. 

It was aggravating, really, having to deal with Jem and his finicky attitude for the first time. Recording our first album had been awkward because we had known next to nothing about what we were doing, but it was still fun. Our second album was a breeze. His behaviour now was new, unwarranted, and unneeded. I almost said something to everyone multiple times about pulling the plug on recording until he became himself again; I’d composed and deleted messages dozens of times to Garrett about getting Jem some pot to calm the hell down. 

Tempers finally exploded as we were on our third song. We had been in the studio for over two weeks, and Jem was still nitpicking every little thing. Alan, apparently, had enough when his brother barged into the booth for the sixth time in an hour, yelling about how a trained monkey could play better. Amber and I were already on our feet, ready to intervene, but Alan moved faster, shoving his brother out of the way. Jem stumbled but corrected quickly, raised a fist and swung. Brett and I gave each other a shocked look but then ran in to put an end to the fight. I yanked Jem back while Brett held onto Alan. 

“Stop it! Both of you!” I pushed harder against Jem’s chest when he tried getting to his brother again. “Jeremy Brent! What the fuck is your problem?”

“He started it,” muttered Alan, wiping blood from his split lip. 

“I don’t give a damn. What the Hell is going on with you two?” 

Jem jerked his arms from my grip. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Brett grunted when Alan’s elbow caught him in the gut. “Knock it off. C’mon, man. Jem… you’ve been nagging at us since we first got here.”

“You think I’m _ nagging _ just because I want us to release a good album?”

“We make better albums when we’re having fun, not when we’re being micromanaged,” I said softly, and Jem turned betrayed eyes on me. 

“Fine. Do what you want. I’m out.”

“Wh-What do you mean? Like, a break?”

“No. I’m out. Quitting. Peace.”

I was stuck, frozen to the spot, only able to exchange bewildered looks with the others as Jem stormed out. Finally, my brain and feet connected, and I chased after him. He was halfway into his car by the time I reached the front door. I shouted his name, hurried to his window. 

“Jem, please don’t do this. Don’t… don’t leave the band. We need you. Please.”

“Obviously not, if all I’m doing is nagging you all.”

“He didn’t mean it like that, you know he didn’t. He just meant that we all need to relax, chill, have fun instead of making it perfect.”

"Nice try, Erin. I’m not coming back.” He sighed heavily, rubbing at his brow with his fingers. “And it’s not even just what happened today. It’s, it’s just not fun any more. The only fun part about the band now is being able to see the world. I don’t even _ like _ our music now, which is fucking sad if you think about it considering I helped write the damn stuff. You can keep the lyrics. Use ‘em or don’t, I don’t care. I’m out.”

“Jem!”

He reversed out of the parking space quickly, and I jumped back to avoid getting my toes run over. I tried running after him, tried to keep up with him, still yelling his name. He made no acknowledgement that he heard me before peeling out of the lot. I let myself crumple onto the sidewalk and stared blankly at where his car had disappeared. My hands were shaking as I pulled out my “emergency” pack of cigarettes. If the stress of today (and the last couple of weeks) didn’t constitute as an emergency, I honestly couldn’t think of what did. I’d gotten halfway through smoking when a loud screaming noise echoed through the silence. My heart thudded painfully in my chest, and my blood ran cold.


	13. thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **as you can see, the tags have changed. please heed them!**

Time slowed, dragged on; that horrible screaming noise continued then cut off with a thunderous crash of metal against metal. I let my cigarette fall from my fingers and took off running out of the parking lot. I stumbled over a dip in the concrete, forced myself to steady and push on. I stared down the expanse of road ahead of me. I could hear someone yelling my name from behind me, but I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t do anything but run faster. Footsteps pounded against the pavement, came closer; my lungs burned in my chest, and my legs felt weak ー whether from the sprinting or fear, I didn’t know. I was terrified of what I would find, but I was even more terrified that I already knew. A piercing scream tore from me, whipped away on the breeze, when I crested the hill and saw that familiar Camaro. Drivers got out of their cars, already on their phones and chattering, watching as I finally reached the tangled mass of metal. Shards of glass crunched beneath my feet. My hands shook violently as I reached through the window, desperately searching.

“Jem? Jem, please, don’t do this, don’t ー please, Jem, don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me. Jeremy, please come back. Jem…”

There was no pulse beneath my trembling fingers. I kept begging for him to wake up, to be okay; I choked on my sobs as I pleaded, but there was nothing. Someone pulled me gently but firmly away from the wreckage. I fought against their hold, struggled to get back to Jem. Someone cried out distantly, and Amber’s voice was soft, muffled by the roaring of my heartbeat in my head. The world stood still as I stared brokenly at the body in the driver’s seat; everyone was moving, rushing to care for survivors, but time was frozen. I collapsed to the ground, slid from the stranger’s arms; I shoved my hands into my hair, uncaring of the blood on my skin. From the corner of my eyes, I saw familiar Chucks coming nearer. I lifted my head and gazed up at Alan. His face was ashen, bloodless beneath his shock. As soon as I clambered to my feet, he clung to me, his sobs ripping though him as we held each other. Even after the police arrived with ambulances and fire trucks, we held on to each other as if we had no other life preservers. 

Finally, he pulled away and mumbled that he had to tell his parents. I nodded, too choked up and shattered to speak. I stood alone amidst the crowd as emergency workers did their jobs, as my friends stood nearby and cried, as reporters swarmed the area outside of the blocked-off wreck. Warm hands cradled my face, and I somehow focused enough to turn my gaze to Brett. 

“He’s… he’s gone.”

He hesitated, mouth open slightly, then nodded. “I know, honey, I know. Come on, sweetie. We gotta get out of here.”

We’d gotten halfway back to the studio when the reporters realised they could approach us; cameras started flashing in our faces, and they shouted questions at us. I remained quiet, mind still reeling, and Brett muttered repeatedly “No comment,” face dark and expression unreadable. I barely registered when he almost reversed his car into one of the reporters who refused to move. His hand found mine over the centre console, and I clutched tightly to the comfort he was offering. It did little in the grand scheme of things, but it was something. 

The ride to my house was silent and long. For extra precaution, Brett drove a complicated, roundabout route. The scenery flashed past my window, but I could think of nothing but the event that had just altered… _ everything _. How could this have happened? Jem hasn’t deserved to… I couldn’t finish the thought, couldn’t say the word even in my own head. I rested my forehead against the cool window and closed my eyes against the tears. 

My mother was sitting on the front porch when Brett pulled into the driveway. Her face was tight with worry, and she rushed to help me from the car. Her green eyes stared at my bloody hands. I could see the questions she wanted to ask, but she stayed silent, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and guiding me into the house. I stood by the bathroom door while she filled the tub with hot water. Her hands were gentle, reminded me of when I was ten and had the flu, as she undressed me and then steered me into the tub. She pressed a soft kiss to my temple then left, shutting the door behind her. Brett’s voice rumbled through the walls; I couldn’t hear his words, but by the way my mom gasped and said _ Oh no _ in a watery voice, I knew he was telling her about Jem. I wrapped my arms around my knees, bringing them to my chest, and stared at my warped reflection in the silver faucet. 

I shivered as my mom forced me out of the cold water and scrubbed a towel over my body. She’d taken over with cleaning the blood from my skin as I hadn’t moved at all in the time I was in the tub. I let her manipulate my limbs into a pair of warm flannel pants and a T-shirt, sat on the edge of my bed when she told me to and stared at the wall as she ran a brush through my hair. She pushed against my shoulder, and I fell to the side and bit my lip while she tucked me in. Her shadow hesitated then she slowly slipped from the room. 

I was scared to close my eyes. Memories of the last few hours played like horror films in my mind behind my lids. Jem and Alan fighting, Jem’s anger as he peeled out of the parking lot, his bloody face and neck after the large SUV had slammed into the side of his Camaro… My breath stuttered out of me when it sank in that Alan had lost his brother ー his twin. I lost a best friend. The world lost a wonderful, magnificent human being who could have done so much. And it was all because we hadn't been able to tolerate his nitpicking. All because we fought with him. All because I couldn’t stop him from leaving. 

The dam behind my eyes fractured before exploding into nonexistence, and I couldn’t hope to hold back the sobs. I gasped as my lungs ached, stopped working properly, as I drowned in my tears. All I wanted was to bring Jem back, to apologise, but I couldn’t. He was gone.

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

“Go away.”

“It’s Garrett.” 

“Leave it at the door and go.”

“Erin, hun, please let me in.”

“Go away!” I screamed toward the door. 

Eventually, I heard him sigh, the sound of a heavy bag hitting the floor, and his footsteps as he walked down the hall. I waited for another minute then crawled across the room and to the door. My fingers slipped from the doorknob once, twice, then I managed to twist it. The bottles in the bag clinked together as I dragged it through the room to the corner across from my bed. I hadn’t been in my bed since that first night, and I wasn’t about to give the nightmares permission to come back. I grabbed a random bottle from the bag, twisting the cap off. The smell of vodka floated up into the stale air; I raised the bottle to my lips and swallowed down a few mouthfuls, relishing the burn as it made its way down my throat and settled in my belly. Anything to get away from the pain I was feeling. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and set the bottle on the floor next to me, fumbling with my free hand for my cigarettes. I lit one, closed my eyes as I inhaled. 

It had been a week since the wreck, but I still hadn’t started getting over it. The pain was still there, every second of every day, and I wasn’t ready for the funeral that I knew would be soon. I wasn’t ready to face the finality or the truth. Brett, Amber, Natalie, DeDe, and even Louis had stopped by to see me, to check on me, but I’d treated the same as I’d treated Garrett ー kept them locked out of my room, kept myself locked away from the world, and screamed at them if they tried. I couldn’t bear the thought of sunshine without Jem there to light it up even more, so I’d tacked a quilt up in front of my window. The sun and the moon and the stars meant nothing if Jem wasn’t there. 

I lost track of time as I sat in my corner, drinking away the liquor Garrett had brought. It kept me numb, up until it didn’t. But that was easy enough to fix; I’d drink more until the hurt and heartbreak faded into nothingness. I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes any more; I was constantly shivering in the cold, but I refused to move. Maybe if I stayed still enough, whoever thought Jem’s death was a good idea would bring him back and take me instead. 

A loud pounding at my door caused me to startle and nearly drop the bottle of rum in my hand. I barely managed to catch it before the last swallow could spill out. I croaked out an order for the intruder to go away, repeating it again and again as the knocking continued. Finally, the room fell silent, and I leaned against the wall, content with my numbing isolation.

**\--------------**

“She won’t eat or drink anything. I mean, besides whisky or vodka.” Erin’s mother sighed, glancing up at Brett. “I haven’t seen her since the day you brought her home. I tried climbing a ladder and peeking through her window, but she’s got it covered.”

Amber reached over and held on to Laura’s hand. Nobody spoke for a long minute, but then Laura sniffled, running her fingers under her eyes. 

“I’m so worried about her. All I hear is ‘Go away’ or that awful screaming.” 

“Screaming?” 

“Nightmares.”

I bit my lip and glanced at Amber. “Do you have a hair pin?”

“Um, yeah, why? What are you going to do?”

“Just stay here,” I replied vaguely as I took the pin from Amber. 

The stairs creaked softly with my weight as I made my way up them. Three of the doors in the hall were opened; no light came from under the only closed one. I was glad that the hallway was dim; my thankfulness grew when her lock proved to be easy to pick, even with a simple hair pin. I pushed the door open as gingerly as I could. My eyes immediately watered as a cloud of cigarette smoke rolled thickly from the room behind, and I coughed before taking a step inside and closing the door behind. The air was heavy and stale. I felt like I was suffocating in the dark. 

“Erin?”

“Go away.”

“I’m not leaving.”

A small red circle glowed bright, seeming to float in mid-air; her breath rattled as she inhaled. “Thought you didn’t have time for a lying whore?” 

“I…” I sighed; I’d honestly hoped that it wouldn’t be brought up, not with what had happened since the last time we saw each other. “I’m so sorry for that. I was mad about something stupid, and I took it out on you. But I’m sorry.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re sorry,” she spat, and I almost recoiled from the venom in her raspy voice. “You get to stand in front of me and say you’re fucking sorry, while my best friend is _ dead_. How fucking fair is that?”

I carefully picked my way through the dark, praying I was going in the right direction. My hand collided with the wall, and I turned and leaned against the plaster, sliding to sit next to her. I took the cigarette from her hands and crushed it against the bottom of my shoe. Erin didn’t give me the chance to turn back to her. Instead, she let herself collapse into me and cling to me, sobbing against my shoulder. I shifted so that I could wrap my arms around her, held her close and tight. My hand moved seemingly on its own as it slid across her frail back in slow, gentle circles. 

_ I didn’t move from my spot on my bed, too engrossed in the game. Finally, I couldn’t take incessant pounding on the door. I rolled my eyes and muted the telly, shuffling across the room. I was surprised to see Liam standing on the other side, his face pale and tears in his eyes. _

_ “What’s wrong?” _

_ “There’s… there’s been an accident. Jem is dead.” _

_ Thought I hadn’t known the guy very well, hearing he had been killed in a wreck was a huge blow. He’d been a fairly awesome lad, and I hadn’t had a problem with him even if he was more Liam’s friend than anything. I somehow made it back to my bed and stared at the silent television, my brain not taking in anything of the football game on the screen. I sat there alone, unmoving, for hours. _

I stilled in my motions when I realised Erin was no longer crying. Her breathing had evened out, she’d fallen asleep in my arms. I sat there for a moment longer, letting her cling to me in her sleep. I didn’t want to move and run the risk of waking her, but I knew she’d be more comfortable sleeping in her bed rather than leaning over while sitting on the floor. She jerked awake the instant I shifted my legs. 

“I’m sorryー”

“Don’t be,” I whispered as I ran a hand over her hair; my sympathy for her was stronger than the flicker of disgust that ran through me at how filthy the strands felt beneath my palm. “Let’s just get you into bed. C’mon.” 

Her hand found mine in the dark, and I laced our fingers together. She followed me until we found the end of her mattress; I swept my hand over the blankets, and dozens of empty cigarette boxes clattered hollowly to the floor. She slid onto the bed and slipped between the sheets. I made sure she was covered up, tucked in, before I sat back. Bony fingers encircled my wrist with far more strength than I thought possible, and my heart sank with even more pain. 

“Stay. Please, Niall. Don’t… don’t leave me.”

Even though I couldn’t see her face for the lack of light, the pleading in her voice was clear as day. Without a word or second though, I crawled over her and curled up around her, pulled her body closer until her back was pressed snugly against my chest. My throat tightened and burned as my concern for her magnified at how skinny she’d become. She had been slender while on tour, but there was still definition to her stature. But now she was downright starving-thin. Her ribs hitter against her flesh under my arm, and I was certain I’d be able to wrap my hand around her wrist and still have a couple inches of my fingers left over. When her breathing hitched and her shoulders began to shake against me, I pressed a kiss to her neck and started humming the softest song I knew and had heard her singing during our tour ー _ Little Things.  
_

I hated myself for not being there for her, even more for holding a grudge against her over something so petty, so monumentally stupid. Zayn had been the first to come back to the hotel suite after their night out, completely pissed, followed by Paul half-carrying Louis in. They’d made drunken jokes about how Erin was worse off than they were, but that had left my mind when I saw all the pictures the next morning and read the accompanying articles. It had hurt me to see evidence of her and Louis kissing that way; I hadn’t realised at first why it affected me so much, but then I couldn’t ー wouldn’t ー admit that I was jealous or that I felt betrayed. Looking back on that entire time made me feel like a complete ass. We were _ friends _ , we weren’t dating. Hell, I’d never even told her that I had feelings for her, but I treated her like rubbish all because I felt slighted. My guilt and remorse took on a life of its own after Liam made a passing comment the morning after Garrett Daniels’s party: “Erin can _ not _ handle alcohol.” He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask. I was afraid to know the truth of what might have happened. But it cemented the thought that my reaction toward her was uncalled for and completely out of line. 

I closed my eyes, shifted closer to Erin. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered into her hair even though she was asleep. “But I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”


	14. fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, here's another chapter. not even ashamed of not being able to wait.

I floated to the edge of consciousness, drifted on the fine line between sleep and awake; a dull throbbing disrupted the peaceful tranquility I was currently wrapped up in. I shifted, scrunching my eyes more tightly closed when a bar of sunlight landed across my face. A warm breeze brushed against my skin, and I breathed in deeply, enjoying the fresh air that’s replaced the stagnant smoke. I rubbed a hand over my eyes, pushed myself into a sitting position, and blinked rapidly at the brightness of the room. A large black trash bag leaned against the wall, filled to the brim with bottles and cigarette boxes. I turned my head at the sound of shuffling footsteps outside my door; Niall came into view with another bag in hand, and I watched as he shoved three more empty bottles into it. He set the bag on the end of my bed and glanced over, startling when he saw me.   


“Oh. You’re awake.”

“Yeah.” I gazed around my room, taking in how clean it was now. “So… last night wasn’t a dream?”

He sat down beside me and scratched at the back of his head. “Nope, can’t say that it was.”

“Thank you,” I murmured after a pregnant pause. 

“Ah, I couldn’t sleep very well, so I, uh, decided to clean up a bit.”

“I noticed. I… I wasn’t saying thank you for that. Although, y’know, thanks.”

“Then what are you thanking me for?” 

“For, well… for being here for me.”

His face split with his smile, and at this angle, the sunlight hit his eyes just right, and I damn near fell headfirst into the bright blue pools. I shifted uncomfortably with the stirring of emotions inside; I’d spent a week trying not to a feel a thing, and ten minutes of talking to him sparked feelings that I wasn’t prepared to face. I ducked my head, picked at my ragged fingernails; his hand was warm, so warm, when he wrapped his fingers around mind. 

“I was a jerk, and I feel so awful about it.”

“So you’re doing this to ease your conscience about being a total asshole to me?”

“No. No, no, I promise  _ no _ . I’m… I’m doing this because I want to. I’m here because you need me. I’m here because, well, because I need to be. I really am sorry for how I treated you, though, and I swear it will never happen again.”

“I hope not.” 

We fell silent, and I stared down at his hand holding mine. A pleasant tingling had come to life under my skin; I fought against the small smile trying to appear on my lips. I tugged him toward me, and his confused expression faded when I hugged him tightly, burying my face into the curve of his neck. 

“Oh, my god, guys! She’s awake!”

Niall jerked away at Natalie’s shout, and I sighed at the multiple sets of feet thundering up the stairs. My friends stopped in the doorway, stared at us with shock painted on their faces. Niall made to move, to scoot away, but I held tight to his hand. He smiled reassuringly and squeezed back. Everyone’s intent gazes on me made me uncomfortable, and I fidgeted and avoided looking at them. Niall cleared his throat. 

“Er, can you lot clear out? I think Erin needs some space to clean up.”

“Oh! Right, let’s go. We’ll be down in the kitchen, honey,” Amber said softly as she herded the others away from the door. 

I watched while Niall dug through my dresser drawers for a tank-top, bra and panties (those he found with cherry-red cheeks, and he handed them over without eye contact), and socks. I grabbed a pair of worn-out jeans and a short-sleeved jacket from the closet. He hesitated then leaned forward to kiss my cheek before leaving me to myself. I bit my lip with a smile, touching my fingertips to the spot his lips had touched, then made my way down the hall to the bathroom.

As the water heated up, I stared at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. My roots had grown out, a dark brown stripe along my skull above lank, limp blonde. Dark purple semi-circles spread like bruises beneath my eyes, and my skin looked much paler in comparison. I poked lightly at my hollowed-out cheekbones. Sighing, I turned away from the mirror and started stripping from the clothes I’d been wearing since the day Jem died. I kept my eyes away from the sight of my collarbone and ribs, clearly visible beneath my skin. I hated the girl in the mirror.   


The hot water rinsed away the grime and sweat that accumulated during my drunken bender. I shaved my legs and underarms, grimacing at the state of my razor’s blades when I was finished, and my hair felt lighter once I rinsed out the conditioner and shampoo. I pressed my forehead to the wall of the shower, let the water beat down against my back. Eventually, the water lost its heat, so I exhaled heavily, turned the taps off, and stepped out. Dressing quickly in order to avoid seeing my naked body any longer than necessary, I dumped my dirty laundry into the hamper and opened the door. I shivered as the cool air from the hallway rushed in.   


Niall was sitting on my bed when I got to my room; his lips curved up into a smile, and he passed over my hairbrush. I sat beside him, running the brush through my wet hair. He didn’t say anything while I was occupied with my task, but as soon as I tossed the brush onto my dressing table, he drew in a deep breath.

“Amber wanted me to tell you that Jem’s funeral is tomorrow.”

“Oh.” I paused, closed my eyes against the pain welling up in my chest. “Wi-will you go with me? I don’t think I can do it alone.”

He let his hand settle on the back of my neck, pulled me in to his side. “Of course. I told you I wasn’t leaving, love.”

I listened to his steady breathing and tried my best to let the rhythm soothe me. Kids shouted as they played outside, cars honked occasionally, and I settled as the sounds of life surrounded me. After a long moment, I leaned back and shrugged a shoulder.

“Guess I should go see the others…”

He didn’t let go of my hand as we walked down the stairs. Though it was a short trip in reality, it felt like an eternity before we reached the kitchen where everybody was sitting, chatting quietly, at the table. DeDe looked up first.

“Oh, Erin.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. Brett rose to his feet and hugged me tightly enough that my ribs hurt. The rest of the group took their turns embracing me; guilt sprouted into life when I realised just how much these people were hurting, too. It wasn’t just me who lost someone special, someone important ー it was a devastating blow to everyone gathered in my kitchen. I forced a smile when Nat brushed my hair from my cheek, her brows pulled close in concern. They followed me to the living room, where we all spread out around the room. Niall stayed close to me even while we found seats on the couch. I was thankful for his presence. He’d caused me pain, but he was what I needed. There was something about him that made me feel safe, secure. He was strong and steady and  _ there _ , and I knew, without a doubt, that I wouldn’t be able to get through the next few hours without him, let alone the funeral. 

“I’m…” I faltered as a dozen eyes turned in my direction. Niall squeezed my hand comfortingly, and I took the strength he was providing. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been this past week. It wasn’t fair to all of you for me to shut you out when all you wanted to do was help.”

Natalie picked at a stray thread in her socks. “Dee beat the Hell out of Garrett when we found out he gave you all that alcohol. And you’re right. We  _ were _ trying to help. We were so fucking worried about you, sweetie. I mean, we definitely didn’t realise that all it would take was an Irish boy with some massive amount of guts to pick a lock and enter the lion’s den.”

“Yeah, I’m brave like that,” Niall said with a proud smile, his cheeks burning.

“Brave or stupid,” Amber corrected; Niall’s blush deepened as everyone laughed, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. 

I sat back and listened as the others talked about various things: Natalie and DeDe were animated as they talked about the progress being made for their album; Amber told me how her family was doing; Brett didn’t speak much, but when he did, it was mostly in response to whatever Nat and Dee said. I glanced at the clock above the fireplace and sighed. 

“Uh, guys. Sorry, but um, there’s something I gotta do. I’ll be back in a bit.”

I avoided looking at my friends as I made my way toward the front door. I slipped my feet into my Vans; when I turned around, Niall was standing behind me. He grinned sheepishly as I jumped in shock.

“Sorry, sorry. Did you want me to come with you?”

“Uh… I actually think this is something I have to do alone. Will you still be here when I get back?”

“I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

I smiled, hugging him close and pressing a kiss to his cheek when I pulled away. His hands slipped from my waist slowly as if he didn’t want to let go; I grabbed my keys and headed out to my truck. Before I reversed from the driveway, I glanced up at the house to see him standing in the doorway. He waved at me, and my heart fluttered in my chest. The drive only took twenty minutes. I kept the radio off, leaving myself in silence. I had to figure out what the Hell I was going to say when I got there. My behaviour the past week was atrocious and unacceptable, and I honestly couldn’t imagine being forgiven for it.

“He’s in their room.”

I hesitated but hugged Donna Rhodes, and her shoulders shook as she cried. I blinked rapidly to stop myself from crying right along with her. She stepped back, dabbed at her nose with a kleenex, and disappeared into the depths of the house. I heard the telltale clink of a teakettle being placed on the stovetop. I headed down the narrow hallway to the back of the house and stopped outside the twins’ old bedroom. When I pushed the door open, I found Alan sitting on the bed staring at photographs in a leather-bound album. He didn’t even look up as I sat down next to him.

“I see you still exist, then.”

I nudged him with my shoulder, leaned into him. “I am so, so, so, so, so sorry. I know everything has to be so damn hard on you guys. I shouldn’t have been so selfish.”

“Stop apologising.” He shrugged and flipped the page. “Everybody deals differently.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Good enough, I suppose.”

Silence blossomed between us, and I stared down at the Polaroid that took up most of the page. It was of the four of us, arm-in-arm outside of the local club with a gleaming trophy held aloft in Jem’s hands. That was the night we’d won Battle of the Bands ー shortly before we began recording demos to mail out dozens of management companies. The joy and pride on all of our faces were evident, even in an almost-four-year-old snapshot. We’d all agreed beforehand that that night was to be the determining factor in our career: If we won first place, we would start trying to get our name out there; if anything else, we’d go back to the starting point and try again. Apparently, the judges of the contest had thought we were ready. After just two years of constant, nonstop, gruelling practising, we’d won a competition against other, more-experienced bands. None of the other contestants had been too thrilled about losing to a quartet who hadn’t been part of the local scene for nearly half as long, but most of them had appreciated our talent and hard work, even though we were only in our ‘teens. That was the night we could see our dreams coming true. It was less than two weeks later that we got the phone calls from the management group we eventually signed with.

“I should’ve been there for you.”

Alan finally looked at me for the first time, but I avoided his gaze. “Erin, it’s all right. I understand. You’ve always had trouble handling things like this, much more than the rest of us.” He paused and pointed to a picture from the tour. Jem was in the forefront with Amber and Harry, but there in the background stood the Louis, Niall, and me, all three of us in the middle of talking; it must have been taken when Niall and I were still on speaking terms the first time. “You know, Jem was trying to get you and Niall together while we were on tour.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He said something about how he could just see you two were perfect for each other.”

I snorted and turned the page. “I really don’t think it’s like that, Lenny.”

“Of course you don’t. Things are too fucked up right now. Give it time.”

We went through the photographs together for a little while longer. I couldn’t help but cry at all the images of Jem as a child, growing up side-by-side with Alan, but it wasn’t as painful as it had been all week. It wasn’t until we got to the final page. It hit me then that no new pictures of Jeremy Rhodes would ever be taken or placed in any photo albums.

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

I laid down on my bed and stared at the wall. Spending so much time in the twins’ bedroom reminded me too much of all the times I’d sneaked in through the window late at night just because I had a new song idea I didn’t want to forget by sleeping. All the times our writing sessions had run over, causing me to call my mom for permission to stay the night. All the time we’d gathered in their room to watch scary movies after long rehearsals and fell asleep basically in one pile. Now those nights were only our past. They would never happen again.

A light knock sounded at my door. I swallowed thickly then realised I wasn’t able to speak, not without the very real risk of bursting into tears if I opened my mouth. The door creaked open, and the bed dipped down behind me. Heat spread across my back as the scent of a familiar cologne filled the air. I rolled over to bury my face into Niall’s chest.

“How did it go, love?”

“All right, I guess,” I mumbled, voice muffled in his T-shirt. “Do you think I was selfish this past week?”

He was quiet for a few minutes; his fingers scratched lightly at my shoulderblades. Finally, he sighed and pulled back enough to look me in the eyes. “I think you were overwhelmed with grief and guilt, and you couldn’t process it well at the time. But no, I don’t think you were selfish.”

“I could never thank you enough for being here with me.” 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he whispered as he held me closer.

We laid in silence; I let my thoughts wander to the events that had transpired with Niall. I felt immensely guilty for allowing myself to have any feelings for him ー any feelings at all, really ー especially since my best friend had died only a week previous. But if what Alan had told me was true, Jem would be upset if I didn’t at least take a chance on having the possibility of something more between Niall and myself. I breathed out deeply and pushed at Niall’s shoulders until he rolled onto his back with a quiet laugh; his arm came up to wrap around my back, and I pinched his side lightly before resting my head on his chest. My other arm draped over his stomach, and I slowly fell asleep listening to his heartbeat, so rhythmic and soothing. 


	15. fifteen

The birds I’d grown accustomed to hearing when I woke up were oddly silent when my eyes opened. Niall was sprawled across the far side of my bed, but one of his hands was curled into a loose fist and pressed against my back. His soft snores brought a smile to my face, and I gingerly rolled over to watch him as he slept. His jaw was dotted with stubble; his eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones while his dreams played out behind his eyes. I laced my fingers with his and said a silent thanks to him. I hadn’t had nightmares last night, and it was because of him. His phone rested on the pillow by his head ー he must have checked his messages after I fell asleep. I pressed the Home button to light up the screen so I could see the time. 6:32a.m. It wasn’t a wonder there was no annoying chirping outside. Hell, the sun hadn’t even peeked over the horizon yet. So why was I already awake?

Then reality hit me with the force of a tidal wave:  _ Today is Jem’s funeral.  _ I sighed. Of course. How could I have forgotten? Carefully, I slipped out of the bed and padded on quiet footsteps out of the room. The rest of the house was just as silent as I tiptoed down the stairs. I looked into the living room and saw a dark form sleeping on the couch; judging from the length, it was Brett. I continued my trek into the kitchen. The carafe was already full of coffee. The machine must have still been set for my mother’s usual schedule. I didn’t question it, though, just poured myself a large mug and carried it out to the back patio. There was a slight chill to the air, peace and tranquility spreading over the yard. The flowers in the garden had yet to open up to the rising sun. I sat on the deck chair and closed my eyes.

I knew today was going to be the most difficult day of my life. Burying Jem, saying goodbye as his casket was lowered into the ground, would make it all so much more final. According to my mother, autopsy reports revealed the other driver’s blood alcohol levels had been nearly three and a half times the legal limit. My only question had been  _ Who the Hell drinks that much before five o’clock? _ Thankfully, his four-year-old daughter and infant son, both strapped haphazardly in the backseat, had survived the wreck with minor injuries. The drunken bastard’s actions had taken his life, leaving his children fatherless and his wife a widow, and killed one of the best friends I’d ever had.

I sighed and swallowed down the last of my coffee. The sun had risen enough that the serenity of the backyard was broken. Brett and Amber were at the kitchen table when I went back inside. They instantly stopped talking as I pulled the sliding door closed behind me. I raised an eyebrow at them but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t my business. The clock on the stove told me it was just after eight; Jem’s funeral was scheduled to start at noon. I rinsed my mug out and placed it upside down in the sink, then headed upstairs to my room. 

Niall was still asleep. I made sure my movements were careful as I reached for his phone, slid my finger across the screen to get to his camera, and snapped a quick photo. Unfortunately, I couldn’t send it to myself without unlocking his phone. I frowned but decided I’d do it later, setting his phone on the nightstand before rounding the bed and sliding onto the bed beside him. He stirred, opened his eyes and blinked away the sleep. My lips turned up into a smile when he turned his head to look at me.

“Morning.”

“Mornin’, love. Wha’ time is it?”

I avoided thinking about the way my heartbeat quickened, beat against my ribs, at the husky rasp to his voice. “Quarter after eight. Sleep well?”

“Amazing. You seemed to be sleeping well.”

“I did. Better than I have in… well, in a long time.”

“That’s great to hear.” He yawned, stretched, and my gaze skimmed over the lines of his body then snapped back up to his face when he collapsed back into the mattress. “Don’t tell me you’ve been awake for hours.”

“Only a couple,” I admitted, rolling my eyes at his exaggerated sigh.

I let myself be dragged against his side, and I cuddled into him and rested my head on his chest. The steady  _ thump, thump, thump  _ of his heart was soothing, and it was all I could focus on. All thoughts left my mind until the only ones that remained were about him. Neither of us spoke, just enjoyed the peaceful stillness of the morning. Suddenly, the quiet was shattered by his phone vibrating on the nightstand before  _ “Count on Me _ ” blared through the room. I rolled over and fumbled for his phone, silencing the sound quickly. He laughed as he took the device away from me. While he spoke to whoever had called, I wandered over to my closet to look for something to wear to the service. Alan had told us all to wear little to no black ー “Jem wouldn’t have wanted us to look like the Addams family, as much as he loved that freaky family” ー but still keep our attire classy.

By the time half past eleven came around, I had showered, partially dressed, and began doing my makeup. Niall sat on the bed behind me, playing with the ends of my hair, and watched as I struggled to get my eyeliner even. It took a few minutes and a dozen tries, but I finally succeeded. Niall handed me my gauzy, pale gold blouse and pretended to look away while I pulled it over my head, never mind the fact I was already wearing a black tank-top and he’d been staring at me for the last thirty minutes. I tucked both shirts into the waistband of the plum pleated skirt I’d chosen to wear. After slipping on a pair of black pumps, I linked my hand with his, and we walked together down to the foyer. Brett sat on the bottom step; he stood so we could pass, and I took in his khakis and sky blue button-down. Amber kissed my cheek then stepped back to smooth out her peach-coloured dress. My mother embraced me tightly. I ignored the way I could feel her fighting tears.

“All right, guys,” I mumbled as I untangled myself from her grip. “Let’s get going.”

Brett, Amber, Liam, and Zayn went in Brett’s car, while Niall, Harry, and I piled into my mom’s. Niall’s hand never left mine during the ride to Mitchell Funeral Home or the walk into the large building. Natalie sat on a bench a few feet away from the entrance; I didn’t blame her. I knew she hated funerals, because I felt the same way. There was something about a corpse being only a few feet away that creeped us both out. My gaze found Alan and Donna standing at the front of the room, talking to the man who would lead the service. Alan disengaged himself from the other two and went outside. 

As everyone began to take their seats, I glanced at the casket. A beautiful mahogany, it reflected the soft lights overhead. The lid was closed, which was a relief until the second I remembered what that meant: Jem wasn’t fit to be seen any more. Bile rose in my throat as memories flooded the forefront of my mind ー blood, shattered glass, tangled metal, lifeless body… 

A firm squeeze on my hand brought me away from the images in my mind, and I turned my head to stare at Niall. His eyes were dark, full of sympathy and worry, and he led me to a pair of empty chairs with the rest of our group of friends. It was amazing, the way we all reached for the people sitting next to us, fingers intertwining as if choreographed. Silence reigned until the man stood at the lectern and started to speak.

As much as I wanted to say I hung on to every word Mister Castillo said, I barely paid attention. My memories and the slideshow of photographs on the projector screen kept my full focus. Jem, throughout the years, had changed a lot physically, but in each and every picture was the same, sweet, beautiful smile I’d grown to know, love, and rely on. Even Alan’s words couldn’t reach me ー I was lost in my thoughts of any millisecond of time I’d spent with Jem. My heart ached, burned, and my lungs were fire, flames eating away the cavern beneath my rib cage. The world went blurry at the edges, spun as if to fly off its axis.

Hot sunshine beat down on the back of my neck, and I came back to myself with a gasp to find I was staring at my feet from between my knees. A warm, solid hand rubbed circles on my back. I turned my head.

“What happened?”

Niall tore his gaze from the birds singing in the trees, flitting from branch to branch. “You started having a panic attack, so Louis and I brought you out here. Don’t worry, you didn’t pass out.”

I nodded slowly and put my head back between my knees until my world levelled out more. The door to the building opened with a muffled  _ clunk _ , and I twisted around to see Amber stepping outside. She looked around the grounds until her gaze landed on me.

“Oh, there you are. Service is almost over. It’s… it’s time.”

Niall’s arm felt like a shield as we walked from the cars to the burial plot. Once everyone was gathered around, I knew we looked out of place in such a sombre setting; only flashes of black could be seen amongst the large amount of bright colours. I leaned heavily against Niall and listened to Mister Castillo’s final words; Donna took the first turn at tossing a handful of dirt on top of the coffin after it was lowered. The others followed suit. Niall sniffed to my left, and I exhaled shakily once the soil left my hand. This was it. The end of a beautiful chapter with an even more amazing young man.

Jeremy Brent Rhodes was dead, buried, and gone.

I collapsed in on myself.


	16. sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to the incomparable Phoenixx90 for all the absolutely amazing comments they've left!

I hated gossip shows, but I couldn’t find the motivation or strength to turn the television off. Justin Bieber’s latest drama, trailers for upcoming movies, and interviews with the “hottest” celebrities were all that had been playing for the last two hours. During this time, I had done nothing but lie on the couch, curled tightly into a ball under the thick afghan my mother crocheted while pregnant with me. The day had seemed to simultaneously drag on and pass by in a blur once we got back from the funeral, and as exhausted as I was, I couldn’t sleep. It was almost midnight when Jem’s face filled my screen, and I snapped to attention.

“As anybody who’s been paying attention to Twitter knows,” the woman started from her position in front of the camera, her smile seeming almost genuine, “the latest hashtag trend on the social media site is ‘_GoodbyeJem _’. This references Complete Irrationality vocalist, Jem Rhodes, who was in a fatal car accident just last week. The twenty-year-old singer was laid to rest this afternoon near his hometown in Southern California. In respect for his family and friends, we at the studio have decided against showing pictures that viewers have sent in of his funeral service. We wish to send the Rhodes family, which includes his twin brother, drummer Alan, and his mother Donna, our most sincere condolences. On our site, viewers will find a memorial page for Jem, where you can upload photos of yourself with him and submit stories that you may have.

“And that’s all we have for tonight. Tune in tomorrow at eleven for all the hottest news. This is Katie, wishing you all a good night.”

I smiled through my tears. I was thankful that, even though they had ample opportunity, the studio had chosen to not show images of the hardest days of our lives. The pictures would certainly be uploaded everywhere else on the internet, but the fact that at least one major “news” source had vetoed the idea of showing them on national broadcast made me feel like we, as those who knew and loved Jem as we did, could onto his memory in peace for just a little while longer. I grabbed my mother’s phone that she was letting me borrow and opened up Twitter, tweeting from the band account a heartfelt thanks to the studio for their compassion. I closed the app as footsteps sounded in the hall; I glanced up to see my mother standing in the archway to the living room.

“Hey, sweetie, can’t sleep?”

“Not alone,” I admitted ruefully, shrugging.

The One Direction guys had been forced by their management to leave shortly after the funeral. Niall was reluctant to go, promised he could just stay and they would have to deal with it, but I assured him I would be all right while he was gone. He wasn’t fully convinced by the time he walked out the door, but he did, leaving to do some promotional events. I could still hear his promise that he would come back to me as soon as possible. I felt terrible that I had monopolised so much of his time ー he’d spent nearly every minute of the past few days with me, but I had been too selfish to try to even half-heartedly persuade him to spend time with his friends, to leave my side so he could have and enjoy his freedom. 

“Do you want to sleep in the bed with me?”

“Mom, I haven’t done that since I was nine and watched _ Nightmare on Elm Street _.” I shook my head. “Nah, I’ll be okay. Thanks, though.”

“Well, you know where I’ll be, honey. I love you.”

She walked back to her room, and I burrowed deeper under the blanket. I appreciated what she was doing, but… she wasn’t Niall. She didn’t smell like him, she didn’t feel like him. Though she meant well, cuddling up beside her just wasn’t the same as being held tightly, securely, in the arms of the guy who’d helped me through so much over the last couple of days. 

It honestly scared me to realise how much I had come to rely on him when, on tour, we’d barely even been friends. I sighed, debated, then sent Niall a quick text saying I missed him. Pointless television infomercials lulled me to sleep.

  
**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**  


I peeled back the plastic wrap, crumpling it up and setting it on the bed next to me; the new phone felt foreign in my hands, heavier than my mother’s. My old one has gotten destroyed within the first two days after Jem’s death ー the poor thing survived a throw against the wall like a champ and had only acquired scratches on the screen and casing… until I repeatedly slammed the heavy heel of my favourite ankle boots to the device. It hadn’t stood a chance against my drunken, violent rage. After inserting the SIM card into the appropriate slot on the new device, I powered on the phone and waited as it started the initial boot.

An hour and a half later, I had set up the social media accounts and downloaded all the apps I remembered having on the old phone. I synced up my email, chewing on the edge of my fingernail as my contacts downloaded. I’d been contemplating whether I should add Niall to the group message I was about to send out or if it would be better to send him an individual text for going on ten minutes when my mother poked her head into the room and smiled.

“Are you ready?”

“As I’ll never be.”

The timer on my phone ticked down, counting away the final few minutes, and I reached up with a gloved hand to scratch at the edge of my hairline. Voices filtered up the stairs from the entry hall, a jumbled mess of words being spoken over one another, and I gave my mother a panicked look. She rolled her eyes, flicked me in the forehead, and left, pulling the door shut behind her. I could hear her speaking to the guests; hoping they would all stay downstairs, I turned my attention back to the timer. It finally chimed once the time was up, and I called for my mom, turned toward the tub. 

She left me alone to brush and blow-dry my hair. I bit my lip when I was finished, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I was still too pale, too skinny, but the dark circles beneath my eyes had faded. I sighed, flipped the light switch, and plunged the room into darkness. My feet instinctively skipped over the creaking plank in the hall as I made my way to the top of the stairs. I could still hear people talking in the living room; the pyjama pants I wore slipped under my foot when I took a step, so I grabbed the sides of the legs and held the hems up while I walked down the steps. 

Niall was the first person I saw ー I sought his face out without thinking; only his reaction mattered. His blue eyes widened when he looked away from Amber, and his jaw dropped. Everyone else fell silent. I sucked my lower lip between my teeth and waited.

“What…” He rose to his feet and came slowly closer. “Why… wow…”

“Like it?”

I leaned into his touch when he lifted his hand to run it through my hair. I smiled shyly as he let the freshly-black strands twine around his fingers. He grinned, leaned forward to press his lips to my forehead. 

“I love it,” he murmured against my skin.

“Thank you.”

He wrapped his arms around me, tugging me in for a tight hug. “You’ll always be beautiful, no matter what you do to your hair.”

I pulled away, blushing. The house phone rang shrilly in the quiet left over from my appearance, and my mother rushed to pick it up. She glanced at the caller ID then left the room before I heard the beep as she answered the call. I rolled my eyes, squeezed into the spot between Zayn and Niall on the couch. The warmth from both of their bodies was pleasant, comforting, and I shifted my foot until it pressed against Niall’s. His lips curved upward slightly, and his hand found mine without either of us looking at each other. Louis explained that since they’d done all the promotional stuff that was expected of them, and they still had time before they had to go back overseas, their management company had caved to their request to spend time with us. The conversations overlapped, and I found my head spinning from trying to keep up with all of them. The connection I had with each of these people grew the more we talked and laughed and joked around, and I felt closer to them than I had in the days following Jem’s death. Voices dropped off when Alan cleared his throat from his spot in the armchair by the large bay window.

“I think we need to make a decision. Is… is Complete Irrationality going on without Jem, or are we breaking up?”


	17. seventeen

Alan’s words echoed deafeningly in the silence. My breath caught in my chest, and I stared at him with wide eyes. From the corner of my eye, I saw Louis blanch and turn his face to the floor; Niall’s grip on my hand tightened. Pain was written so clearly all over Alan’s face, and it was obvious that he hated even thinking of breaking up the band. The band had been the one thing we’d all worked so hard on, the only thing none of us would ever let fall to the wayside. We had all put so much effort and love and care into the music. But I knew it would kill him to go on without Jem. Everything had been the twins’ ideas: name, style, basis, everything. They’d spent months searching for a bassist and even more time writing songs they were certain wouldn’t get them very far. They were too stubborn to give up, and my acceptance into CI had solidified their hopes for our success. For Alan to keep the band going would be torturous, at best, on him without his brother there to share in it.

As much as the band meant to me, and it meant _ everything _ to me, I couldn’t do that to him. I couldn’t condone him breaking his own heart over and over as we played shows with someone who wasn’t Jem singing the songs we poured our lives into. I averted my gaze to Brett, and he caught my eye and gave a quick dip of his chin; he knew what I was thinking and was on the same page. My chin wobbled as I released Niall’s hand and crossed the room to sit on Alan’s lap. I hugged him tightly, wished I could turn back time as his tears dampened my skin. 

Niall curled around me that night once we’d gone to bed, his fingers immediately coming up to play with the ends of my hair. That afternoon had been tense, heartbreaking, _ agonising _, but we’d finally cleared the air and come to a decision. Alan had left after the discussion was over, and I’d wanted to chase after him, stop him from leaving, but I hadn’t. I let him go. With a sigh, I grabbed my phone and couldn’t even dredge up a smile at the photo I had set as my wallpaper ー the one I’d taken of Niall asleep. He hadn’t been impressed that I had the photo, claiming it was an awful picture, but he hadn’t fought too hard about it. I opened the Twitter app and listened to Niall breathing as I brought up TwitLonger.

**CIOfficialx: ** _ After a long, difficult discussion this afternoon, Brett, Alan, and I made a very hard, painful decision: Complete Irrationality will not be continuing. The decision was not made in haste, nor was it made lightly. CI has meant literally everything- EVERYthing - to us since we started out on this journey almost 4 years ago. YOU have meant everything to us. Each and every one of you helped push us forward, you heard us play and demanded more, you gave us the motivation to keep going when we wanted to give up, and you all made our dreams come true. And it hurts so bad to know that this choice may be seen as us letting you down. This was something none of us saw coming. Not one of us ever dreamed we’d see an end to this band, this family. Unfortunately, without Jem, the end has come all too soon. The decision to disband CI is, what we feel, the right decision. It would never be CI without Jem. But we had a terrific time giving you guys our hearts in the form of our songs. I wonder why it is always the most important choices that are the hardest and hurt the most… _

_ We are sorry for letting you down. We’re sorry to all those wonderful fans we haven’t had the chance to meet yet. We’re sorry to every one of you for not being able to keep going. But as I said, CI is no longer the same without Jem, and we hope that you can understand that. Please make no mistake: This journey with you guys has been, to say the least, amazing. It never would have happened without you. Words will never be able to describe or explain how much we love you for your loyalty, your dedication, your undying love. _

_ We love you guys, from the bottom of our hearts. _

_ Love, Erin. _

My finger trembled as I pressed the post button. It was an uncertainty as to how the fans would react to the news; even our management didn’t know our plans, but they would in the morning. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and rolled over to face Niall. I buried my face into his skin, trying to ignore the way my heart ached so fiercely in my chest. Complete Irrationality was no more ー I had known it was more than a mere possibility since the day of the wreck. It had essentially died and been buried along with Jem. I had just been in denial, hadn’t wanted to lose that last connection to Jem. Goosebumps erupted along my flesh as Niall trailed his fingers lightly over my back and bare shoulders. 

“Are you all right?”

“I guess. Just… didn’t want this to ever happen. Jem wasn’t supposed to die. We were supposed to still be rockin’ out in our eighties ‘cause we don’t know how to quit.”

“That would’ve been a sight,” he murmured with a quiet laugh, and I nodded with a giggle.

“Ni?”

“Hm?”

“When do you guys have to go?”

He sighed and answered after a long moment, “Three days. You can come, ya know. I mean, if you want to.”

I leaned back and peered up at him through the dark. “Is Niall Horan nervous?”

“I might be.”

“I’ll, I’ll think about it.”

His lips were soft against my forehead, and I settled back down into him as he began to sing quietly to me. His warmth, heartbeat, and voice pushed me rather swiftly into sleep; the last words I heard were _ If I let you know I’m here for you, maybe you’ll love yourself like I love you. _

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

The tweet had generated hundreds of thousands of replies, nearly two million retweets, and one very irate conference call from our managed by five o’clock the next day. Thankfully, the fans had understood for the most part; there were still quite a few ー over a quarter of the replies ー who demanded more of an explanation, a better apology, us to change our minds… everything short of us serving our heads to them on silver platters. I’d just logged out of the app after scrolling through the responses, not even bothering to make any other tweets. I avoided my own personal Twitter as a whole; it was proven long ago that the fans had less compunction about sending hate-filled messages to my personal account than they did sending it to the band. 

Management, on the other hand, was beyond angry at the fact that we’d made a decision of that magnitude and posted it on a public forum without letting them have a say. They tried claiming “breach of contract”, but I’d hung up at that point, leaving Alan and Brett to handle the tirade. I was sure that they weren’t angry about the fact the band broke up; they’d always understood when we came to them with whatever issues we had. This latest decision caught them by surprise, and they were trying to find a way of figuring everything out.

I’d practically shoved Niall out of the house that morning so he could hang out with his friends and enjoy some time away from me, though he hadn’t been happy about it. He had kept asking me why it was such a big deal, was he bothering me, why was it a big deal if he’d exclusively spent his time with me? Thankfully, he’d run out of steam after only about half an hour and left reluctantly, leaving me with a kiss on the cheek and a promise that he’d be back.

That meant I was home alone for most of the day. My mom had come home during the phone call with our management, and I spent almost an hour calming her down. She kept saying “How dare they be such a big bag of ducks!” and “Oh, I don’t look good in orange, orange is _ not _ my colour…” I’d barely managed to keep my smiling under control at her quoting _ Supernatural _and talking herself out of committing murder. 

She was still grumbling under her breath when I set a plate in front of her at the table. Even as she stabbed at her lasagne, her muttering could be heard; I tossed a crumpled napkin at her, and she glanced up at me with wide eyes. She grinned sheepishly and quieted down in regards to the phone call. I had just cleared the table when the doorbell rang. My mother shooed me away, going back to scooping ice cream from the carton into bowls. My face split with a smile when I saw her sneaking a handful of chocolate chips into her mouth. All amusement that I felt drained instantly once I opened the door. 

“What the fuck.”

“So let me get this straight,” I seethed, balling my hands into fists to prevent myself from lashing out. “_ You _walked out on us, left Mom to work two damn jobs to support us, never bothered to write or call to see how we were doing. Yet you expect to be able to waltz right in and for us to forgive you and pretend like nothing ever happened?”

Patrick sighed and ran long fingers ー the ones I’d inherited ー through his salt-and-pepper hair. “No, I don’t expect you to pretend that nothing happened. But I want the chance to explain.”

“Explain _ what_? How and why you _ cheated _on Mom when she tried for years to give you another child, and you decided a family wasn’t what you wanted after all?” I ignored the protesting from him and the indecipherable noises my mother was making. “How you took off and deserted us when I was only five? How, even after you figured out you didn’t want us, you immediately found someone else, not even waiting to tell my mother you were through with the marriage, and ー oops! ー knocked her up? Which part do you want to explain, Patrick?” 

“Erin, pleaseー” 

My mother’s hand was firm on my shoulder, and I resisted the urge to shake her off by the skin of my teeth. My anger toward my father might have taken over my mind, but I certainly wasn’t going to take it out on the woman who had never hurt me. I threw up my hands and shook my head. 

“No. Just no. Leave. My life was fine before you showed up again. Like usual, your presence is fucking it all up.”

“You’re going to let her talk to me like this?” he shot at my mother, and she snorted from behind me. 

“She’s an adult. I have no say in what she says or does. Secondly, you deserve it. She was a child. She’s had plenty of years to figure out how she feels, and I think she’s more than earned the right to get it out.”

“Oh, Hell, I thought we got over this already!” 

My eyes narrowed as I stared at Patrick; I turned on my heel to look at my mom. “‘Got over this already’? When would the two of you have gotten ‘over this’?” 

“Your mom and I have been talking on the phone for the past couple of weeks.”

My heartbeat pounded in my ears, and black spots danced at the edge of my vision. I slowly turned on my heel and stared at my mother. There was a tightness around her eyes; her mouth opened as if to say something, but nothing came out. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered, eyes stinging at the tears. I stepped away from her when her hand came up to rest on my shoulder, and her face fell. 

“You had enough to worry about with Jem and the band.” 

“What happened with Jem?”

“Oh, don’t act like you give a damn,” I spat in Patrick’s direction. “I’m… I’m done with this conversation.”

Dark had begun settling as I stepped outside. Streetlamps flickered on, leaving golden-orange circles of light on the sidewalks. The heat of the day still enveloped the city, not lessened in the slightest by the fact that the sun had set. I scrubbed a hand over my face, let autopilot take over as I made my way through all the familiar shortcuts. Though I hadn’t been on the paths for years, they were still easy to navigate, as known to me as my own reflection. The fence rattled as I climbed, and I launched myself over the top, landing roughly in the hard dirt on the other side. 

The trees stood tall and black against the deep blue-grey of the twilight sky; as soon as I entered the woods, the sound of cars on the freeway disappeared, and all I could hear were the sound of nighttime insects and the last calls of birds before they settled in for the night. The darkness was comforting, and I breathed in the rich earthy scent while I slipped between tree trunks and stepped carefully over roots. Then, there it was: the hideout I’d made with Amber when we were barely eight-years-old. 

The first time I had ever come to this spot alone, I was nine and had just had a fight with my babysitter. That night had been what my mom and I considered one of my “bad times”. The therapist I was seeing at the time said it was me acting out about the lack of paternal influence in my life, but my mother believed it was me being unable to process things properly. She’d gone out for a shift at one of her jobs, leaving me with a teen that lived down the street, and the sitter, whose name I couldn’t remember now, had refused to let me even call my mom to say goodnight. She demanded that I go away and stop bothering her, so I did. Of course, I’d taken her literally and packed my school bag with Bun-bun, a pillow, and some crayons and a notebook, and left the house. The fence hadn’t been set up ten years ago, so sneaking into the woods had been simple, uncomplicated. Explaining why I had run away from at ten o’clock at night to my mother and the cops… not so much. 

I pushed aside the thick wall of dangling limbs and slipped into the circle of trees. The woven walls of pliable twigs that Amber and I had made to serve as walls still stood securely, though they now gave off the sweet smell of decay. I settled in comfortably on the dirt floor, crossing my legs under me, and stared up at the sky through the canopy. 

My mind was still reeling from what I’d learned. How could my mom have been talking to Patrick for so long without telling me? How could he think it would be so easy to come back into our lives without repercussions? I sighed and swiped away the tear that had escaped. I’d always prayed as a little girl to have my daddy back. I guess those prayers finally came true. I just wasn’t so sure that was what I wanted any more. 


	18. eighteen

I scratched idly at a mosquito bite on my arm as I stumbled up the sidewalk. The sun still hadn’t fully risen, but a couple of my neighbours were already out in their front yards, preparing for the day. A child screeched from a house down the street, and I winced at how the shrill sound echoed. I barely got my key in the lock when the door flung open and I was engulfed in a tight embrace. My arms came up to wrap around my mother’s back; her long hair tickled my nose, but I didn’t move, just let her hold me securely. I caught sight of an angry, scowling Patrick over my mom’s shoulder and turned my face away. I didn’t need to deal with him right now. I had been too angry the night before to realise that my sudden departure and long absence would cause my mother to go through Hell. But oh, did I know it now.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I whispered, hugging her even more tightly.

“What the Hell were you thinking? Or were you even considering anyone but yourself?”

I pulled away from my mom and glared at Patrick and his stupid puce-coloured face. “Don’t you dare act like you get to treat me like I’m your daughter. You lost that right the moment you got in that fucking cab and didn’t look back.”

I turned, ran up the stairs to my bedroom. My blood was boiling in my veins; I wanted him _ gone _. He was nothing to me ー nothing but the man who had sent everything in my life all topsy-turvy and didn’t deserve to be in my life at all. My stomach churned with my rage, and my hands itched to punch something. I flopped backward onto my bed with a heavy sigh, staring at the ceiling and imagining what it would feel like to just...hit him in his face. Just once. A knock sounded on the door, and my mother poked her head into the room.

“Mind if I come in?” Her hopeful expression gave me pause, and I couldn’t bear to disappoint her. I shrugged; she sat down beside me. “I… I get that you’re upset, and I completely understand why. I really should have told you sooner that your father and I were talking again.”

“I just don’t see _ why, _after all that he’s done.”

She sighed and started scratching lightly at my scalp; I closed my eyes and leaned into the touch, throat tightening when I realised she hadn’t done this in a very long time. “I don’t really know, honey. He just messaged me one day to apologise, and we, we started holding an actual conversation. I didn’t tell you because you were going through enough. I didn’t want to throw all this on top of the fact that you were still dealing with Jem’s death and then the band breaking up. He wasn’t supposed to come over yesterday, not until I got the chance to talk to you.”

“How can he expect to make up for ditching out on us?”

“Oh, he knows that’s one mistake that’ll take a lot of time to make up for. All he’s asking for is the chance to start.”

I rolled over and faced away from her. I still couldn’t believe that this was happening. She sounded so sure, so confident, about Patrick’s remorse, but I had a hard time believing it. My eyes stung, and I drew in a shaky breath.

“Mom… I don’t know if I can forgive him,” I said quietly after a long pause.

“No one’s forcing your hand in this. It’s completely up to you.”

She left the room when I didn’t respond. I felt the familiar tingling under my skin that precluded anxiety and forced myself to breathe deeply, evenly. If only Niall were here with me… Speaking of, I remembered that I hadn’t spoken to him since he left the day before. I pushed myself up off my bed and grabbed my phone off the nightstand. After plugging the device in since the battery had drained to ten percent overnight, I checked the notifications: Seven missed calls, ten texts, and three voicemails. My brows furrowed when I saw that none of them were from Niall. Something didn’t feel right, but I tried convincing myself that I was being paranoid as I opened the texts first. 

**From: Lambchop ** _Hey, whore. Why aren’t you picking up?_  
**From: Lambchop ** _ Why did I just get a text from your mom saying you were missing??!?  
_ **From: Lambchop **_Never mind. Found you. Told your mom you were crashing here. Love you, girl._

**From: Deedzy ** _ Stay away from the internet. Please. _

**From: Louis ** _ Could you please answer your phone?? _  
**From: Louis **_ Erin. It’s important. Answer me._  
**From: Louis ** _Erin McCarty, I swear if you don’t answer, I WILL beat you up the next time I see you!_  
**From: Louis **_ All right but you asked for it. But seriously. Answer._  
**From: Louis ** _ Just wanted to say. This was NOT your fault. I promise.  
_ **From: Louis **_Don’t hate him. _

DeDe’s text had come in around 4:30, and Louis’s were sent shortly after hers had arrived. Disregarding Delia’s warning, I opened the Twitter app to find the masses had begun trending the hashtag of _ poorgirl_. My confusion grew as I took in how vague the tweets were, no full explanations, just messages like _ That was unexpected #poorgirl _ or _ Oh no! #poorgirl _ I stopped scrolling when one tweet in particular caught my eye: _ First the death of her best friend now THIS?!!! Wtf. #poorgirl. _When it became evident that I wasn’t going to get more information from the social media site, I took my search to Google. It was vain, I knew it was, to automatically assume that the tweets were about me, but I supposed it came with the territory. 

I typed my name into the search bar, tapped the button, and waited. Less than a minute later, seven new articles appeared at the top of the screen, all dated for that day, and all referencing me. I opened each one in new tabs and felt my heart shatter with each line that I read. 

_ Since the tragic death of Jeremy “Jem” Rhodes, Niall Horan of One Direction has been by former-Complete Irrationality guitarist Erin McCarty’s side nearly every second of every day, and our Eriall hearts were swooning! Until last night, that is. The boyband heartthrob was seen leaving a club with someone draped on his arm, and it wasn’t Erin! _

_ Niall Horan Leaves Night Club with New Girl _

_ This leaves us to question: Does Erin know Niall has found someone to replace her with? _

_ Inside the SoCal club, the girl was putting the moves on Niall, taking advantage of his being alone, and he apparently wasn’t saying “no”! _

_ Horan was spotted leaving a hotel room early this morning, clearly hungover and still wearing the same exact outfit he’d worn the night before. A source close to this mysterious girl has confirmed he was, indeed, leaving her room. _

_ With the two of them having been almost completely inseparable, we’d began to think Niall and Erin were dating. Clearly, as the accompanying pictures prove, we were wrong.  
_

_ Still no word has been heard from McCarty or Horan about this latest scandal. _

My phone tumbled from my hands and clattered on the floor as I rushed to the bathroom. I clutched my stomach while leaning over the toilet, but there was nothing inside to come up again. I dry-heaved, unable to see through the tears that filled my eyes, breathing laboured as I choked on bile and snot. When I was able, I sat back against the wall, sobbing. _ Does Erin know… replace her?... _The Twitter trending topic was right. How could this have happened? He wasn’t supposed to hurt me. He had promised to never hurt me, not after the last time. Someone tapped on the door and pushed it open. I looked up to see Amber standing in the doorway.

“Hey, sweetie, I figured you’d need me.”

  
**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

Amber’s deep, even breathing filled the air; I couldn’t blame her. It was almost two in the morning. She’d been lying with me on my bed, only leaving me alone once to pass a message on to my mom (and Patrick, since he was in the kitchen and would most likely still be in the house when Mom went to work): “No matter what, do _ not _ let Niall Horan into this house. No questions. No excuses. Erin’s request.” Hearing the words had caused my stomach to twist angrily, but I knew she was right. He couldn’t be here. 

Amber hadn’t hesitated whatsoever to help me change into pyjamas, borrow a pair of sweats and tank-top, and lounge around all day while I cried off and on. She had held me when I needed it, gave me space when I lashed out, but she never left my side. She really was the most amazing girl I’d ever met. There had been numerous calls and texts which she had answered in my stead. The replies were generic ー “Erin isn’t feeling well. She’ll let you know when it’s okay to visit or talk to her again.” She hadn’t read only one text aloud to me, and I reached for my phone to read it myself now that she was asleep.

**From: Niall ** _ Let me know when you want me to come back over, love. I miss you x _

I scoffed quietly; the pain wasn’t nearly as evident as my anger. Missed me, did he? Surely that other girl kept him company well enough. I bit my lip and went to my contacts, let my finger hover over his name. _ Should I delete him? _ I knew Amber would immediately say duh, yes, bitch. But my heart, as torn apart as it was, told me I shouldn’t. I knew I would probably regret it, but I just… couldn’t. He’d been the one to bring me back from my bleak existence after Jem’s death. He’d been the one I’d cried to and told of my memories with Jem. He’d been my rock through everything. I couldn’t just forget how happy he had made me, no matter how horrible I felt now because of him. Instead, I cancelled the action of deleting the number and changed his name in my phone to ** _Ignore_**. With that done, I locked my phone, rolled over to cuddle into Amber’s side, and fell into a restless sleep.

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

I stared at the clock on my phone. Liam had called Amber yesterday to let us know what time they were leaving, so I knew they should have boarded their flight by now. They’d be on their way back home in less than an hour. I wasn’t sure if I was happy about that, or sad. Louis and Harry had left me a video message on Skype to let me know they’d miss me and I’d better call them; I’d saved the message to my laptop with a small smile. Liam’s text to me this morning had said nothing more than _ Miss you already. Feel better soon x_, but I was eighty percent sure he knew, without a doubt, that I wasn’t sick. Zayn… well, all Zayn had said in the voicemail was “Chin up, girl. Message sometime, yeah?” Not one message, video chat request, or call had come from the one person I most desperately wanted to hear from. Niall. 

And… the plane took off. I dropped my cell phone onto the couch beside me, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that it was over. No more Louis to lift me up and spin me around or dance like fools in the dressing rooms before shows or have late-night talks over junk food. No more Zayn to punch my sides and ask “Vas happenin’?” No more of Harry’s cheeky grins or Liam’s too-knowing eyes. No more Niall holding me close in the dark of the night or his sweet whispers or soft songs to lull me to sleep. No more waking up to his sleep-roughened voice or sleepy gaze. No more chances to finally say what I’d been fighting the urge to confess to him. 

No more chances to tell him that I loved him. 


	19. nineteen

The note quivered in the air, and I grimaced before picking at the keys again, this time hitting the one above my first choice. The transition between notes felt more right, so I marked it down my notebook, turning my head just enough to take a bite of the snack wrap that Amber held to my mouth. I chewed thoughtfully as I reached for my guitar to play the same bar with strings. It sounded better than I anticipated, and I grinned widely. 

It had been nearly a week since the One Direction boys had left the states. I spent a portion of that time turning the empty guest room into a room for writing music, but almost all of my time was dedicated to the actual writing process. Though I knew the band was never going to play music together again, I couldn’t stop myself from getting all of the ideas out of my head. These songs, however, were just for me. I didn’t need them to be recorded with my friends; just the act of writing, of picking out the sounds I wanted to the words I needed to say… it was enough. Amber had come over bearing McDonald’s, knowing that I was well-known for skipping meals when I got into these writing swings. Finally, I finished, set my guitar aside, and turned to face her.

“Can I hear the whole thing?”

“When it’s done.” I laughed at her pout. “C’mon, Lambchop, be patient.”

“Have you talked to Alan yet?”

I reached over and swiped a couple of her french fries. “He should be here any minute. I’m really fuckin’ nervous.”

My best friend rolled her eyes and bit off a large chunk of her double-cheeseburger. My fingers pressed lightly on the piano keys, the wavering notes light and airy in the silence. I’d sent Louis a picture of the hardbound notebook I’d designated for writing lyrics, and his response was a massive amount of heart-eye emojis and a thumbs-up. So I felt like I was doing the right thing. But Alan would be the deciding factor.

“Don’t be so nervous,” Amber ordered. “He isn’t going to kill you on the spot for asking, y’know.”

“I know, I know. But they’re just as important to him as they are to me, though. If not even more.”

“What is?”

I swivelled on my chair to see Alan leaning against the doorframe, his hands deep in the pockets of his dark jeans. He grinned before entering the room, kissing my temple on his way to the futon pressed against the wall across from me. I waited until he was settled in then cleared my throat, inhaling shakily.

“Well, I know that, um… Jem said we could, uh, have the lyrics we all worked on, even the ones that he brought to the table. But, well, I don’t want to just, you know, basically steal them from you, so, um…”

“Do you want to use them?”

“Well, yeah, if you’re okay with that?”

“You’re an idiot,” he said with a laugh, and I stuck my tongue out at him. “Of course I’m all right with it. Take ‘em. They’ll just rot away if you don’t. I’m not getting back into music, and I think Brett is as close to the music world as he’s gonna get again. So go ahead. They’re yours.”

I hardly dared to breathe as I stared at him hopefully. “Are… are you sure?”

“Hundred percent. I’ll go through everything and bring ‘em by tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Lenny, I really appreciate it.”

“Just do me a favour? Make Jem proud.”

“I’ll do my damnedest,” I promised, making an x over my heart.

He smiled and picked up the ukulele I’d bought from a thrift store when I was seventeen. Our conversation shifted to our lives and how they’d changed in the past couple of weeks. Brett had gotten a job as a deejay on a local radio station; it suited him well for the most part, especially since the guy he worked with had been a relatively close friend back in high school. Alan was taking a break from everything ー just letting life go at its own pace and enjoying the ride, he said. The guy deserved it, too. I was proud of him for doing what made him happy. 

Alan and Amber left when my mother announced dinner was ready. Though she invited them to stay, Amber said her parents were upset that she hadn’t been home too often lately, and Alan said he needed to get back to his own mother. I locked my notebooks in the safe and followed the smell of ranch-crusted chicken down the stairs and into the kitchen. Patrick was, once again, sitting at the table as if he belonged there. As if he’d never left fourteen years ago. This didn’t hurt or bother me nearly as much as it had the night after I’d run away to my hideout in the woods. There was still over a decade worth of pain and anger that I had to sort through, but I was somewhat okay with his presence now. After how readily he agreed to keeping Niall away before 1D had returned to the UK and how willing he was to give me all the time and space I needed to be okay with his reappearance in my life, I figured the least I could is _ try _ to shut him out completely.

I sat to his right, and he caught my eye, smiling slightly at me. To his and my surprise, my lips quirked up at the corners in response. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Dinner was a fairly quiet event; my mother told us about her day and all the shenanigans her students in summer school got up to, and then we all fell silent. The only noise to be heard was silverware against the plates. Once I swallowed my last bite, I set my fork down and wiped my clammy hands on my napkin.

“Alan’s giving me, uh, Jem’s last lyrics.”

“Why’s that?” my mom asked, and I bit my lip. _ This was it _. 

“Because I’m going to use them.”

“You’re still going to make music?”

I nodded at Patrick’s question. “Yeah. I… I tried, but I can’t just quit. Besides, Jem wouldn’t have wanted me to give up on my dream.”

“Well, your mother and I are behind you.”

I cleared away the dirty dishes before he could see the tears in my eyes. When everything had been put in the dishwasher and the machine started, I joined them in the living room. The Netflix logo appeared on the screen as I curled up next to my mother on the sofa. Patrick scrolled through the home screen in search of a movie for us to watch before settling on_ Taxi _. The opening credits played, but I ignored them in favour of staring at the two people who’d come together in love to create me; I saw so much of their traits in myself, both physically and behaviour-wise. Though we most likely would never be a whole family again, I was grateful for their once-upon-a-time.

_____________________

Jamie Longston stared at me incredulously from across the large oak desk. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, and my knee bounced up and down as I waited for some sort of reaction besides her expression saying I’d grown five extra heads in the last two minutes. Eventually, she cleared her throat, tapped her pen against the desk-top.

“Is this for real?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re certain about this?”

“A million percent. I’ve thought really long and hard about this, Jamie, honestly. We all know Jem would haunt my ass if I didn’t keep doing what I love.”

“That’s… actually incredibly true,” she laughed, dropping her pen and leaning back in her seat. “Okay, hun, I’ll give you a call when the gang get in, so we can all sit down together and hash everything out.”

I nodded, surprised at the outcome of the impromptu meeting. I hadn’t expected more than Jamie immediately rejected the proposal. They had reacted terribly to CI’s breakup, but I still didn’t want to work with any other management company than them. They didn’t meddle or interfere with our music-related decisions, only gave suggestions based off of what fans were saying on social media. The four had even taken the whole “scandal” with Louis in stride ー damage control was done in the form of a statement that Lesly wrote (and the way she managed to copy my exact ways of phrasing and punctuation was amazing) and posted for me, and they’d even laughed at how I couldn’t handle my alcohol, even though they made me promise not to get that drunk in the public eye again. They gave us loads more freedom than a lot of musicians’ management did, especially since we were younger. I’d never once felt that Martin, Lesly, Pete, or Jamie had tried taking advantage of our newness and unfamiliarity with the entire scene.

I left the office building in significantly higher spirits than I had been when I’d initially shown up. Alan had brought Jem’s music notebooks over the day before, and reading the words that Jem had written while in various moods had prompted me to take action to secure the chance to continue with music; it had also torn open the aching wound in my heart that hadn’t quite healed fully. There amongst the scribbled words was a small note, just seven letters: _ For Erin_. I’d been shocked to see that he’d written a song for me, but then, once I read the lyrics, I realised it wasn’t about _ me, _ per se, but it was perfect for the things that I’d gone through.

I drove my truck through the entrance and up the long lane, slowing to a stop when I got where I knew I needed to be. I sat in the seat and stared out at the expanse of brilliant green and flowers; sighing, I unbuckled my belt, cut the engine, and shoved my door open. My feet found their way to the plot of land that held my best friend. His headstone had finally arrived. I sat beside the marker and ran my fingers over the polished letters.

**Jeremy “Jem” Brent Rhodes  
** 9 May, 1993 ー 7 July, 2012  
May Angels Lead You In 

“Hey, Jem. Can’t believe it’s been a month.” I let out a watery laugh, running my hands over the grass I was sitting on. “Alan gave me your lyrics. I’m gonna try to make you proud. And… Gods, Jem, I’m so fucking sorry for the last time we talked. None of us was very considerate of each other, and now you’re… here. You’re here, and we’re alone. _ I’m _ alone. Why couldn’t you have just stopped and listened to me? It isn’t fair!”

Birds squawked in the trees as my voice echoed over the grounds. I clambered to my feet and started pacing, wiped at my eyes with the hem of my T-shirt. My voice was caught in my throat, I couldn’t speak past the thick lump, and I hated that I couldn’t even talk to a damn headstone without falling apart. My heart pounded rapidly in my chest, and I stopped walking, stared down at the line of music notes along the top of the marble marker.

“You should be alive,” I whispered in a tremulous voice. “You should still be rockin’ out, like we’ve been dreaming about for five years. It wasn’t long enough. We should’ve had the rest of our lives with you. Why you? It makes no sense…”

I collapsed back into the grass and buried my face in my hands. A sob tore itself from my throat, and I didn’t even try to stem the flood of tears. The wind picked up, sending a cool breeze through the cemetery; my hair whipped around my head. Eventually, I was left hiccupping, and I wiped my cheeks dry. I still ached so damn much, I would always be broken from this, but there was a strange sense of peace in my heart. I rose to my feet, brushing my jeans clear of dirt, and lightly touched the top of the headstone.

“I love you, Jem.”


	20. twenty

The night sky was expansive, dotted with brilliant stars, above me as I lounged in the hammock. Crickets chirped and owls hooted into the quiet; I closed my eyes and relaxed into the swaying. I had spent the last couple of days avoiding any social media, and my mind felt clearer without the constant reminders of what Niall had done. I’d never be able to forget it, but at least the retweeted articles weren’t being shoved into my face. My phone vibrated against my belly, the sound of the Skype ringtone starting up.

I raised my phone to look at the screen, grinning widely as I accepted the video call. “Heya, Liam!”

He looked exhausted; stubble covered his jaw, and his hair was a mess. I giggled when he attempted to stifle a yawn just for it to force itself out of him. The video lagged slightly as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Hey, Er. How are you?” His eyes narrowed. “Where are you?”

“In the backyard. It’s super-quiet so I wanted to relax and enjoy it. I can’t complain. Things are going pretty well. Got some big things planned, so I’m looking forward to those. How about you? How’s the album coming along?”

Liam smiled, his tired eyes bright with joy. “It’s going so well! I can’t wait for the fans to hear it.”

“I bet. Ugh, I miss you guys,” I whined, scrunching up my face though I doubted he’d see it with how dark the video call was on my end.

“We miss you, too. It’s weird, not being able to just go down the hall and be able to hang out with you lot.”

“How are… the others?” I asked after a long moment, and his face fell, just a bit. 

“The lads are making sure he knows he messed up.”

“That’s just it, Bear. He didn’t, not really. We weren’t _ dating_. He was at complete liberty to fuck ー” Liam winced at the crudeness of my word choice, and I ignored it. “ーwho he wanted.”

Liam sighed and stared at something off-screen, his brows pulling together as he thought. “Look, Erin. He messed up with you. Even though you two weren’t dating, as you put it, he still shouldn’t have let the alcohol override his good sense. We all thought you two would end up together,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, well, we didn’t, so it is what it is.”

“Because he’s an idiot.”

“Because he realised he didn’t want me.” I exhaled sharply, pressed my palm against my eyes. “I’ve gotta go. Tell the others I said hi.”

I ended the call before Liam could respond. I knew his feelings would be hurt at the abrupt disconnection, but I really couldn’t find it in me to care. He was trying too hard to get me to see his perspective, to believe that Niall had just made a mistake instead of sending a message loud and clear about how he felt, and I just… I wasn’t able to handle it at that moment. I pushed myself out of the hammock and made my way inside. I was in the middle of pulling out a packet of microwaveable popcorn when Patrick entered the kitchen.

“Everything okay?”

I shrugged, closing the microwave door with a little more force than necessary. He hesitated then sat at the table, and the kitchen fell silent, the quiet only interrupted by the kernels popping in the microwave. The beeping sounded louder than usual in the room, and I pulled the bag out, shook it up, and carried it to the table. Patrick nudged the salt shaker in my direction.

“How is writing going?”

“Really well, actually. I, uh, I have four songs done, two or three in the works.”

“I heard about what happened to Jem. I’m… I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I stuffed a handful of popcorn into my mouth and chewed slowly. “So how long are you stickin’ around?”

His eyes widened, and he stared down at his hands. “Oh. Um…”

“Oh, Christ on a cheesecake, that came out wrong. Sorry, shit. Uh, I meant how long are you staying here, in this house?”

“I’m, I’m not sure. However long you and your mom are all right with.”

We grew quiet again, and my fingers tapped against the tabletop as I struggled to find something we could talk about. It had been a little over a week since his reappearance in my life, but we’d not said more than a few words to each other the entire time. Waking up in the mornings to find him already at the table, eating breakfast and reading the news on his phone, was still awkward. 

“I’m not trying to pry,” he started, and I turned my gaze to him, frowning at the discomfort on his face, “but uh, what happened between you and that boy, the one you didn’t want coming around?”

I breathed out heavily, slowly. Of course he would have brought it up. I might have been okay as long as I didn’t think or talk about the ‘incident’, but the hurt was still there under everything. I realised the silence had dragged on too long, “Well… I don’t really know how to explain it, but, uh, basically… we were close. He helped me through Jem’s death and everything, and I thought maybe we were going to possibly be a couple? But apparently, he didn’t feel the same way and made his point.”

“His loss,” Patrick said with a snort.

“Huh?”

“Erin, listen to me. You are a beautiful, intelligent, funny, clever, amazing girl, and if this boy so unwisely chose someone over you, he’s clearly an idiot and doesn’t deserve you. His loss. You’ll find someone one day who will treat you as if you’re the only woman in the world because, in his eyes, you are. So don’t waste your tears and thoughts on this jerk.”

A wet laugh escaped, and I looked away, too uncomfortable to maintain eye contact. “Isn’t that what all dads are supposed to say to their heartbroken daughters?”

“Well, pumpkin, we dads say it because it’s true.”

It wasn’t until I finally went to bed that I realised I’d called us ‘dad’ and ‘daughter’ again.

  


**Niall’s POV**  
I sprawled out on the sofa in the studio, watching but not really listening as Harry sang his heart out into the microphone. I couldn’t focus on anything for long, my mind already too preoccupied with trying to figure out why not one of my mates would look me in the eye or speak to me about anything other than the recording process; even Paul barely made eye contact any more. It had been a rough week since we’d left the US. 

I’d woken up the day before our flight in an unfamiliar, empty hotel room. There hadn’t been any of my belongings in the room except the clothes I had worn to the club. I had sat on the bed for over an hour, trying to will away the pounding in my head, and wondered how I ended up there. I didn’t remember much of the night before, just flashes of dancing in the club and drinking. I had fully expected Erin to text me whenever she wanted me to come back to her house, but there had never been a message from her.

I glanced down at my phone. The last text had been from me to her. Before I could stop myself, my fingers typed out a new message: _ I really wish you were here. x _

“Wouldn’t send that, if I was you.”

I jumped, startled at how close Zayn’s voice was to my ear. “What? Why not?”

He ignored me and focused on the game he was playing on his phone. I glanced up at the sound mixer who was ostensibly more attentive to the recording process than my conversation ー or lack thereof ー with Zayn. My bandmate didn’t say anything else; frustration sparked to life deep in my gut, and my knee bounced up and down as I waited impatiently. 

“Zayn. Do you know something I don’t?”

“Unless you’re somehow blissfully unaware of how much an idiot you are, then no,” he spat between clenched teeth.

After that, he refused to reply or even acknowledge that I was speaking. I gave up on trying to get answers and sat back, settled into the couch cushions. The door squeaked softly, and I looked over to see Liam in the entrance. His eyes landed on me; he frowned and turned, walking away. I followed him on a whim. I caught up with him just down the hall. 

“Liam, what’s going on? You lot have barely spoken to me. Anything you _ do _ say only has to do with the album. You won’t look at me, you won’t be in the same room as me. Did I somehow contract a contagious disease without knowing?”

He sighed, scrubbing at his face with a hand. “No, Niall. You don’t have a disease.”

“Then whatー?”

“If I have to tell you what you did wrong, then you’re obviously more dense than any of us realised!”

I stared after him, frozen in my spot, as he stormed away. Liam rarely raised his voice; when he did, everyone knew he was past his breaking point. I leaned against the wall behind me, slid down until I was sat on the floor. People passed by me at random intervals, but I paid them no attention. My phone screen stayed completely dark, no new notifications at all, and my heart ached at the lack of contact with Erin.I still didn’t know exactly what had happened, but I was beginning to think it had a lot to do with her.

_ “Please, no, please,” I plead, and the hulking figure in front of me lets out a booming laugh. “I ー I’m begging you, don’t do this.” _

_ “Too bad, Niall. You brought this on yourself.” _

_ The ground beneath my feet crumbles away, and I scramble to find solid earth. There is none to be found. Anywhere my feet or hands touch immediately turns to dust, disappearing beneath me. I fall down, down, down, into the deep abyss threatening to swallow me up. My nail rake against the soil around me, struggling in my search for something to save me. Nothing. The shadow looms over me as dirt begins to plummet and gather at my feet. Its long, slender fingers dance and twirl in the air, and I watch, mesmerised by the movements, even though the motions are leading to my inevitable end. My breathing quickens, lungs burning with the short shallow gasps of breath, and I try to fight against the clumps of soil cascading down, but there’s no use ー I’m slowly being buried. I stare upwards. _

_ The shadow leans over the edge of the pit; I can feel its gaze, cold and hard and penetrating through my bones. I choke as dirt and dust coat my tongue, fill my mouth. Before the last of the dirt can cover my head, I rasp out a final question. _

_ “Why?” _

_ Silvery light, thin and pointed, illuminates the figure’ face. Those blue eyes are hauntingly familiar, though they’re frozen ice and just as emotionless. Erin gives me a wicked grin that chills me to my core. _

_ “Because you deserve it, Niall.” _

“Niall! Wake up, mate!”

The sound of someone screaming suddenly stopped, and my eyes snapped open as pain blossoms across my face. Harry stood over me, his face screwed up with sleep and worry. I sat up shakily, arms trembling and weak, trying to resist the urge to vomit all over the floor. My hands shook violently when I brought them up to cover my face; sweat coated my skin, and my T-shirt clung to my body. The nightmare had felt so real. I could still feel the scratchiness of dry earth as it rained down on me. Suddenly, I lurched past Harry and toward the bathroom. I fell to my knees in front of the toilet right as my dinner made its reappearance.

“You all right?”

I retched, spit the bile into the toilet, and gulped down a few breaths before looking up to see him in the doorway. “Yeah, bad dream.”

“Must have been terrible, to have you screaming like that.”

“I suppose.”

Once I brushed my teeth and washed my face of sweat and spit, I made my way on exhausted legs to the living room, where he’d let me spend the night. I frowned when Harry followed. I was glad that he was concerned about my well-being, but the way he was acting now was a sharp contrast to how he ー and the others ー had treated me all week. 

“What are you doing?” I snapped when I caught sight of him standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his chest, with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Making sure you’re okay.”

I tossed the pillow to the other end of the couch, dropping onto the cushions with a muttered, “Thought you didn’t care about me?” 

“Says who?” Harry scoffed. “Oh, come off it, Niall! I never once said I didn’t _ care _. I’m just...disappointed in you.” He pauses then scrunched up his face, his body shivering. “Hell, I just sounded like my father.” 

“Disappointed?”

“Maybe… maybe you should search the internet for clues, if you can’t figure it out yourself.” 

He left after sighing once more. I heard the click of his bedroom door shutting, and my mind buzzed with his words. As hard as I tried, I hadn’t been able to solve this puzzle. Unbidden images of the nightmare ー particularly Erin’s icy smile ー resurfaced, and I gagged at the memory. The silence was deafening, echoing throughout the house, and I stared at the far wall. Eventually, I pushed myself to my feet and crossed the room to grab my sweatshirt off the back of the armchair where I’d thrown it earlier. I grabbed my phone from the pocket, unlocked the device, and Googled my name and the date of the last message to Erin, the day she stopped replying. 

“Oh, _ fuck_.” 


	21. twenty-one

I stopped at the edge of the beach where asphalt met sand. Clouds moved lazily across the brilliant blue sky as seagulls flew in circles overhead, their loud caws mixing chaotically with the rush of waves rolling in against the shore. The sun beat down in unrelenting waves, and I breathed in deeply. The air tasted of salt and summer; hot sand scorched the bottoms of my feet as Amber and I carried our bags across the beach, closer to the water. We spread out our towels along the ground and sat down. She dug through her bag for her Bluetooth speaker and the tube of sunscreen while I took in our surroundings. 

Hardly anybody was out and about ー not surprising, since it was the middle of a Tuesday morning. The few people to be found were a couple of families with children too young for school, but further along the beach was a group of teenagers. I couldn’t hear their conversation from this distance, but their smiles and laughter were evident. I sighed, hoping they didn’t recognise me from so far away, and let Amber slather sunblock on my back and shoulders. Having lived in Southern California my entire life had never helped me to _ not _ burn within ten minutes of exposure. 

“So how’s recording coming?” she asked as she stretched her long legs out in front of her. 

“I’m almost done, actually.”

She laughed and flicked at my arm. “Ya know, that doesn’t shock me at all. You’ve been in the studio every possible second for almost three weeks.”

I chuckled along with her, but my stomach tightened at the reminder that once this EP was done, there was nothing stopping me from doing a tour; in fact, it was the plan as declared by my management. I picked at the polish chipping away on my nails, stared out over the sea. 

“Is it bad that I’m, like, ridiculously nervous about even putting it out?” 

Thankfully, Amber didn’t immediately rush to assure me. She took her time to think about her answer, to make sure it was completely factual instead of just what she thought I wanted to hear. I waited as patiently as I could. She finally sighed and rested her head on my shoulder.

“Nah, it’s not bad. I mean, these songs are… so different than _ any_thing Complete Irrationality ever did.” She shrugged, shoved a bottle of water in my direction. “These songs are specifically for _ you_, and yeah, they’re gonna be less pop than what the fan base is used to. But if they wanna complain, I’ll just remind them that they’ve gotta understand that who you are has undergone some massive fucking changes in the last couple of months.” 

We grew quiet then, and I mulled over Amber’s words. She was right, of course she was. I wasn’t exactly the same girl who’d gone on tour with One Direction. I’d been hurt ー by many things; I was knocked down, was blindsided by pain and loss and betrayal, but I wasn’t letting it keep me down. This was my chance to come back stronger. This was my chance to say what _ I _wanted, when I wanted to. I smiled slightly to myself, digging my fingers into the sand by my towel. I wasn’t letting anything stop me or keep me blind to the realities of life. 

A shadow fell over our towels, and I shielded my eyes with a hand and gazed up at the newcomers. The group of teens had found us. I barely stifled my sigh, forced a smile. 

“Uh, Erin Mc-McCarty, right?” asked the shortest of the girls, her expression a mixture of hope and nervousness. 

“Yep, that’s me.”

The groups burst into excited chatter, their voices overlapping in chaos. I somehow caught their question of getting a picture with me, and I glanced at Amber. She shrugged, but I knew she was rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses. I pushed myself to my feet and joined the teenagers. They were all grinning widely, but my own smile slipped a bit when one of the boys’ hands slid down and rested just an inch too low on my waist. However, I bit back my words, gritted my teeth, and posed as Amber raised one of the phones to snap a few photos. After scrawling my signature on their belongings and skin with a Sharpie that the boy in the backwards baseball cap supplied, they left us, laughing and chatting together. 

I collapsed back down beside Amber, and she giggled at my expression. I could only imagine what my face looked like; it was probably displaying my shock that they’d managed to see me from down the beach, surprise that they had even wanted to see _ me _ since it had usually been Jem that the fans flocked to first, relief that there had only been five of them, and ecstasy that they were gone. Unfortunately, though they’d left after getting what they wanted, I knew there was a high chance that more would arrive, because people loved Tweeting about their encounters with celebrities. 

Amber seemed to have the same thought, and she gave me a scrutinising look from the corner of her eye. “Wanna get outta here and get some froyo?”

“You read my damn mind,” I responded with a laugh, shoving the sunscreen and towel into my bag. 

I was disappointed that we hadn’t gotten into the water; the ocean was always my favourite part of the beach, even as a child when my mom would allow me to play hooky from school. I’d dart between the waves, bouncing around and splashing in the tide, screech as spray would hit my face. I tolerated building sandcastles but only as long as she let me play in the water for hours first. Nevertheless, I slid my shorts back on over my bottoms, made an unspoken promise to the ocean that I would return soon, and followed her to her car. She turned on the radio absentmindedly, her attention on reversing out of the spot. 

I groaned as the chorus to _ What Makes You Beautiful _blared from the speakers. I groaned and reached forward to turn down the volume. Hearing Niall’s voice no longer hurt. All it did now was piss me off. He hadn’t attempted to contact me since the text before he’d left. I had Skyped with the others, even Zayn, and we all kept up a relatively steady stream of conversation via text messages. Except for Niall. 

“Still nothing?” 

“Nope, not even a simple ‘fuck off’. What did _ I _ do so wrong? I’m not the one who fucked some random stranger. So why is _ he _ avoiding _ me_?” I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. “He promised, he fuckin’ _ promised_, that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me again, Lambchop, so… why would he?” 

She glanced in her side mirror, signalled for a lane change, then reached her right hand out to hold mine tightly. “Because, darling Erin, he’s an idiot. Okay? Your dad was right. He is absolutely not worth the time and energy you’re wasting on trying to figure him out. He’s not worth the tears. Or the fact that you still miss him like crazy.” 

“Forgetting him is easier said than actually done.”

“I know, sweet cheeks, but this too shall pass. One of these days, you’ll wake up and realise you haven’t thought about him in so long, just saying his name does nothing. No hurt, no heartbreak, nada.”

“I love you,” I said quietly after a moment, my voice thick with emotion; her hand tightened on mine, and I stared out the window. “Thank you.”

“So, uh, I love you, too, but I hope you don’t mind. I have to kinda cancel our plans for tonight.”

“What? Why?” 

“I maybe sorta definitely have a date.”

“A date?”

“Don’t sound so damn shocked, asshole,” she muttered, and I shifted to face her, disregarding the fact she’d just pulled into the parking lot of the frozen yogurt place. 

“Sorry, but… a _ date_.”

“Oh, my god, yes!” 

“With whom, young lady?”

“I’m not telling.”

“Well, why not?”

“Because…” She avoided my gaze and fidgeted with her keychain. “I don’t want to jinx it.”

I stared silently at her for a few minutes, then pushed open my door with, “I swear to Gods, you better tell me everything tomorrow, or I’ll kill you so hard, you die to death.” 

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

“You’re… you’re actually serious?”

“Absolutely!” Lesly laughed, and I held the phone more tightly against my ear. “We _ love _the tracks you laid down, and if I’m being honest, the fans will, too. So we want to release the EP by next week.” 

“That’s… oh, my Gods! Lesly!”

“Excited?”

“You, you have literally no idea. Thank you! All of you are so, so, so amazing.” 

“Hey, honey, you’re the one doing all the work. We’re just making sure it gets out there.”

“Well, thanks. And don’t ever listen to what the others say, I think you’re fucking fantastic.”

Her amusement was evident when she said, “Yeah, yeah. No problem. Be here by eight next Wednesday. See ya, Erin.” 

I had the patience to wait until the call disconnected fully before I shrieked excitedly, jumping around the living room with reckless abandon. All the hard work I’d been putting forth over the last month, it was finally paying off. Patrick suddenly appeared in the doorframe, a worried expression on his face; he stumbled back when I launched myself at him and hugged him tightly. 

“Management wants to release my EP next week!”

His arms encircled me, and I could feel his smile against my head. “Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Dad. I gotta call Mom!” I stepped away to move toward the couch where I’d tossed my phone in my excitement but came to a stop when I saw his face. “Uh… what?” 

“You called me Dad.”

“Oh.”

I chuckled awkwardly, the sound weak to even my ears, as my joy at the news morphed into awkwardness at the situation. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Patrick turned on his heel and headed toward the kitchen; I heard the back door sliding open then closing with a soft thump. I hurried to dial my mother’s number, disregarding the fact that she was probably teaching a class. My face still felt hot after my slip of the tongue, but thinking about the upcoming release forced the mishap from my mind.

  
**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**  


The sound of at least a hundred people finding their seats echoed in the building, and I wrung my hands as I waited in the wings behind the heavy curtains. My entire body was shaking; my knees felt weak, like I would crumble if I took a step. How did I ever think this was such a good idea? I peeked out to get a glimpse of the crowd. Lesly had promised it would be an “intimate” event, but it sure as Hell didn’t sound that way. I shook out my hands to get feelings back into my fingers and paced around in a tight circle. Inhaling slowly and as steadily as possible, I ran through the setlist one more time. It was only going to be five songs, but I didn’t want any kind of mistakes. Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned, fully prepared to tell whoever it was that I was ready. My words died in my throat; I gasped, squealed when I saw the grinning face.

“Louis!”

“Hey, love!” He embraced me tightly, spinning me around like he always did before. “You excited?”

I laughed shakily and pushed my hair from his face. “I think nervous is more like it. What are you doing here?”

“Nat told us about your show ー your _ first solo _show ー so Liam and I sneaked away long enough to be here to support you. He’s already out there with the others,” he offered when he saw me looking around.

“Is, uh, is Patrick here?”

“Yeah, he’s here along with Nat, DeDe, Garrett, Chase, Amber, Alan, Brett, and your mum.”

“Okay. Good.”

He caught my hands and forced me to stop twisting my fingers around each other. I gave him a wobbly smile, burying my face in his neck when he tugged me in for a bone-crushing hug. 

“Hey, relax. You’ll be wonderful.”

“I hope.”

A tech cleared her throat from behind us, gesturing to the watch on her wrist. I pulled away from Louis, nodded. His lips were warm as he pressed them to my forehead before he disappeared to join the others. I exhaled and ignored the pounding of my heart or the tightness in my chest. My guitar was comforting, solid, in my grip. The band Martin and Pete had managed to find for me in less than three days was already on the stage, finalising the setup. The curtains parted, and I sighed, knowing it was time. I stepped out into the bright lights, vision blurring with tears at the cheering that erupted instantly; the noise was noticeably louder from the back corner (_Thank Gods for my own personal cheering squad_, I thought with a nervous giggle), and I took a seat on the stool someone had placed in the centre of the stage. Everyone slowly quieted down as I adjusted my microphone.

“All right. Um, hi. Thank you, all of you, for being here tonight.” I rolled my eyes and grinned when someone in my group of friends and family whooped loudly. “Shh, you’re interrupting the serious moment. Anyway. Your support is so incredibly important to me. If it weren’t for you, I… I wouldn’t be here. Thank you. Uh. This first song is, well, it’s going to be the hardest one for me. It’s the very first one I wrote after…” I sniffed and turned my head to clear my throat. “This is for Jem. 

“I said goodbye yesterday, but it still doesn’t seem real. You were everything for so long, now I don’t know how to feel. I tried all thatI could to keep you from leaving, but you still had to go. I’m left behind, screaming, crying, numb, but I just need you to know.

“That nothing is okay, nothing is all right, now you’re not here any more. I can’t breathe, I can’t eat, I can’t sleep through the night, pictures scattered ‘cross the floor. I hate that you left, I hate that I’m alone. Nothing is okay, nothing is all right. I wish you could just come home. 

“The last words we ever said, still echo in my mind. People keep asking, how I’m doing, if I’m all right. They don’t know I’ve spent so long, wishing you’d come through the door. Memories replay every second of the day, but they only hurt me more. And nothing is okay, nothing is all right, now you’re not here any more. I can’t breathe, I can’t eat, I can’t sleep through the night, pictures scattered ‘cross the floor. I hate that you left, I hate that I’m alone. Nothing is okay, nothing is all right. I wish you could just come home.

“If I’d never met you, if I’d never loved you. I probably wouldn’t be this way. And I wouldn’t be sitting here broken, needing just to say… nothing is okay, nothing is all right, now you’re not here any more. I can’t breathe, I can’t eat, I can’t sleep through the night, pictures scattered ‘cross the floor. I hate that you left, I hate that I’m alone. Nothing is okay, nothing is all right. I wish you could just come home. I wish you would just come home.”

The second the last chord faded in the quiet, the applause rang out with a deafening roar. I ducked my head and wiped the tears from my cheeks. Playing the song had once again opened the wound Jem’s death had caused, but there was a sense of relief accompanying the pain. I finally felt like all the grief and guilt I’d carried since the wreck was gone, lifted off my shoulders. I grinned widely at the people cheering for me; I hadn’t felt such monumental peace in a long time. I got through “Right Here”, “Lost”, “Remember Me”, and a cover of “Hopelessly Devoted to You” without any problems, no hesitation or worry. The applause didn’t die down during the set, and it kept me going. I felt free.

**<ooxoo>**

I rolled over in bed, unable to sleep any longer. Liam and Louis had disappeared early in the morning yesterday; all Paul would tell anybody, even our management, was that they’d be back soon. I’d avoided reading any articles on the internet. The last time I did was the night I found out what I’d done to Erin without even remembering it, and it had done nothing good for me. My reputation took a hit from it, a majority of Tweets and the articles were focused on how the writers felt bad for Erin, and I couldn’t even blame them. I had made an awful mistake, and I didn’t know how I would fix it. 

My phone vibrated from the bedside table; I grabbed at it lazily to see the notification on the screen telling me I had an email. My eyebrows pulled together when I saw the sender.

“Why has Natalie emailed me?” I mumbled to myself even as I opened the message. 

_ This one’s for you. Enjoy asshole :) ーNatalie _

My confusion grew as I tapped on the thumbnail of the attached video. Erin stood in front of a microphone, guitar in hand, and a smile frozen on her face. My heart hammered in my chest, and for some inexplicable reason, I was trembling. The video buffered and loaded before finally enlarging. The video was shaky, and the cheers from the audience were painfully loud through the speaker of my phone, but I continued watching.

_ “All right, well, this last song ー” Erin paused, laughing as boos filled the air, and her fingers picked lightly at the strings of her guitar, “ーyes, _ last_, is a song that Jem started. When I first stumbled onto it, I couldn’t figure out why he’d noted that the song was for me and me alone. But then, I actually read the lyrics, and I realised… It was perfect. Half-finished, but perfectly in progress. Everything that he put in stayed the same. I couldn’t change the words, they were what this song needed. And um, this song is really important to me. So now, how about I shut up and sing?” _

Everybody laughed, and I sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard as I watched her turn her gaze to her hands as she played. Her voice was slightly shaky when she started to sing, but it was still the most beautiful voice I’d ever heard.

_ “Your eyes, they pulled me in. I had no clue what I was getting into. I fell, for your charm. You gave me more than I bargained for. The moment you looked at me, baby, I was lost. I knew there was no getting back to me, baby, it’s a lost cause. _

_ “A rocky start is all we had. Lies and anger and sleepless nights. We could have been more, so much more, but we can’t magic away all the fights. Now I’m sitting here wanting to press rewind, get back to the good times, press pause. But everything is gone, not comin’ back. No, it’s all lost. _

_ “You were, what I was looking for. I didn’t know it, it could’ve been perfect. I gave, everything I had. It wasn’t enough, we had to give up. The moment you looked at me, baby, I was lost. I knew there was no getting back to me, baby, it’s a lost cause. _

_ “A rocky start is all we had. Lies and anger and sleepless nights. We could have been more, so much more, but we can’t magic away all the fights. Now I’m sitting here wanting to press rewind, get back to the good times, press pause. But everything is gone, not comin’ back. No, it’s all lost. _

_ “We should’ve been more, so much more. Can we try to magic away the fights? Now I’m sitting here, trying to press rewind, get back to the good times, press pause. It doesn’t have to be gone, it’s not all lost. Don’t let it be lost. I don’t want it to be lost.” _

I could hardly breathe by the time the song came to a close and the audience screamed and cheered in delight. My chest ached, and my eyes stung with teras. I knew she’d been hurt by my actions and the tabloids’ writings, but I hadn’t thought about how much it had affected her. I breathed out heavily, struggled to force away the emotions. After a few minutes, I opened the Twitter app.

**NiallOfficial: ** _ You know you messed up bad when someone writes a song about you… _  



	22. twenty-two

Drifting to consciousness the next morning was a peaceful thing; when I opened my eyes finally, the sun was shining brightly through my window, and I was surrounded by a deep blissful feeling. My first solo show had been a success, and I shared it with those closest to me. I had spent hours after the show talking to everyone who’d shown up, who was willing to support me in this endeavour, and I’d gone to bed feeling lighter, freer, than I could remember ever feeling. Even when Complete Irrationality was touring as a band, it had felt rushed, like we were bouncing from one place to another without the ability to breathe. I had avoided social media after the show. Being able to hear from the people directly was more than enough for me.

I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and decided I’d do just that now. I couldn’t stop the smile as I scrolled through the tweets, even the ones timestamped from during my set. More mentions rolled in as I retweeting my favourites ones:

_ SO AMAZING! Best night of my life all thx to @erroroperatorr _

_ Definitely diff than @CIOfficialx but @erroroperatorr is amazing on her own too! _

_ @erroroperatorr ‘s new songs are perf _

_ Only problem with the set last night is it was too short. @erroroperatorr I NEED MORE _

_ Home was a tearjerker! Surprised @erroroperatorr could get thru such a beautiful song w/out breaking down. I know I cried a LOT im still crying _

_ LOVE LOVE LOVE @erroroperatorr SOLO CAREER! AMAZING IN CI AMAZING SOLO ALWAYS PERFECCTTTTT _

There were only a handful of negative tweets from fans who were still unhappy with the band’s breakup, but those were easily drowned out by the positive ones. Even people who hadn’t been able to show up were Tweeting about how happy they were with my set, thanks to the myriad of show-goers who had uploaded videos of my show to YouTube. I smiled and posted a quick message to my Twitter, thanking those who had shown up and those who were willing to support me as I continued my career in music. 

I set my phone down, rolled on to my back, stretching out my legs and arms. Someone laughed at the odd noises that came from the back of my throat and sounded a lot like a dying whale had taken up residence in my bedroom. My head snapped to the side, and I raised an eyebrow at Louis. He gave me a sleepy grin, rubbing his eyes.

“No, no, please continue. That was insanely adorable.”

“Shut up, Tommo. Why are you still here?”

“Don’t wanna see my face?”

“Oh, you know that’s not what I meant. I’m not complaining, but you were supposed to go home last night.”

“Our flight got cancelled last minute, so your mum let us stay here.”

“Ah. Well, sorry you had to sleep on the floor.” I paused, looking around the room. “Wait, where’s Liam?”

“Probably downstairs eating breakfast. It’s almost ten-thirty, after all.”

I rolled my eyes at the way he scrunched up his face, pushing back my comforter and standing up. I slapped at his hand when he pinched at my side as I stretched. He walked by my side down to the kitchen. Liam was sat at the table and Patrick leaned against the counter, all three of them talking to each other. They stopped speaking and turned to face me when I entered the room.

“Morning, pumpkin.”

“Morning. Where’s the food?”

My mother laughed, swatting at me with a dishtowel. “Toaster Strudels are in the freezer.”

**.:.:.:.:.:.**

“I still can’t believe you ate the entire box,” Louis commented as I drove them to the airport.

We hadn’t been able to spend as much time together as I would have liked, since their flight was scheduled to leave at three, but it was still so wonderful to be able to see them in person again. We’d all three piled into the hammock in the backyard, chatting in the cool breeze. I listened intently to my friends going on and on about recording, laughed with Louis as Liam recounted the disastrous date he’d attempted to set up with Stefanie that had been interrupted by paparazzi, and let myself be snuggled on both sides while the hammock rocked gently under and around us. It had been a fantastic morning. I knew I would cherish the hours I got.

“Hey, I was hungry!” 

“Apparently.”

I flashed a quick, half-hearted glare in Liam’s direction. “Look, jerkass, have _ you _ ever tried resisting strawberry and cream cheese Toaster Strudels? No? Then shut your cute British mouth.”

“My mouth is cute?”

“Oh, my Gods, I’m going to beat the Hell out of you, shut up,” I whined, laughing when Liam pressed his fingers to his lips with an exaggerated smile on his face.

Thankfully, Louis changed the subject to what we were going to do whenever we got the chance to hang out again. I pulled into the parking spot fifteen minutes later, turned off the engine, and grabbed my phone from out of the cupholder. They stayed close to my side on our trek to the terminal gate; the flight being announced echoed over the swell of voices, and I turned to Louis first. He spun me around, but it lacked its usual energy. Liam held me extra-tight ー most likely so I couldn’t punch him after he spoke.

“So… my mouth’s cute?”

I pulled away laughing, ignored the tears in my eyes as I swatted at his arm. I stayed long enough to watch them get through security; once they disappeared from view, I slipped on my sunglasses and made my way back through the airport. I’d just reached the food court when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I moved off to the side and unlocked my phone to read the text.

**From: Bear ** _ Don’t worry, your mouth is kinda cute, too :P Sorry. I had to. Be safe, love you. x _

**To: Bear ** _ You are SO lucky you’re one of my best friends, or I’d beat your ass, Liam James Payne! You be safe, too. Let me know when you land, okay? Love you. _

I grinned and reread his message. My mind went back to the first time he’d said that he loved me. It had been an awful day ー nothing seemed to have been going right, and I’d spent most of the afternoon alternating between anger and crying. I had sent him a text asking him if he was busy, and he’d immediately started a Skype video call. It had been four days after they left, and the media was still circulating articles about what Niall had done; according to the piece, the girl had tweeted “steamy details” of the time she got to enjoy in Niall’s arms. It had torn me apart to read what was said, but I couldn’t stop. There was some masochistic part of me that _ needed _ to know, and Liam seemed to know exactly what had set me off on the spiral. He’d listened as I cried for nearly forty-five minutes without interruption then launched into a speech.

“Listen up, Erin, because I’m only going to say this once. Okay, maybe not really,” he said with a smile at my disbelieving expression, “but still… Don’t listen to anybody else about what may or may not have happened between Niall and that girl. Only he can tell you the truth. But, to me… it seems like you need to take a break from anything to do with him. Don’t Google him, don’t check his Twitter. If you see pictures of him, walk away. If there’s an interview or a video of him on the telly, look away. Turn it off. I don’t give a damn if it means you don’t listen to our music, so don’t think that I’ll be upset if you don’t. It’s not a big deal to me. I know you’re a fan. But more importantly? You’re a friend. Love, you’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and I would rather be down one person hearing us than to know it’s breaking your heart to do so. You are far too dear and important for me to be selfish like that. I love you, Erin, so much. But please, stop crying over Niall. He isn’t worth it. _ Please_.”

His words had startled me into silence. One of Niall’s closest friends was telling me to basically forget about him? I’d nodded and promised to try ー that was all I could say. I tried to keep the message in mind whenever I felt low, whenever I hurt because of Niall, and so far, it seemed to work. It certainly helped me to move past the pain he’d caused.

By the time I made it back home, I’d listened to Silent Playground’s entire debut album and half of Fall Out Boy’s Greatest Hits. My mom’s car was gone from the driveway, and I knew she’d most likely gone grocery shopping or for a jog at the park. I slowly unlocked the front door and headed through the empty house to back patio. I kicked off my flip-flops, climbed up into the hammock. Eyes closed to the warm sunshine, I relaxed into the netting, letting the calls of birds and the cool edge to the air lull me into peacefulness. 

I’d only been lying under the trees for twenty minutes when I heard the gate lock rattle. I turned my head to see Jamie standing on the other side. She smiled widely, waved, and unlocked the gate, stepping into the backyard. The heels of her shoes sunk a little into the dampened earth, but she seemed to ignore it as she made her way to me. 

“Hey, what the heck, girl. Why have a phone if you’re not going to answer it?”

I shrugged, pulling my phone from my pocket; there were three missed calls from the management company’s number. “Sorry. I put it on silent so I could relax. What’s up?”

“Well, as you can see, I tried calling, but you didn’t answer. I was on my way home from a meeting and decided I’d stop by to deliver the news in person. Grace Morrison will be by Monday morning for an interview. The last one before you embark on your first tour to promote the EP.”

“A… a full tour for five songs?”

“Sort of. It’ll only be a month long, twenty-two cities. But there’s going to be video and radio interviews, photoshoots, that kind of stuff. So it’ll be a lot like your tour for the first album.” She paused and poked my forehead with a long fingernail. “And luckily for you, the shoot you did while touring with One Direction made sure that photographer will never be allowed to work with you again.”

“Good. Fuckin’ sleazeball.”

“Exactly. But we found a great replacement.”

“Who?”

Her answering smile was mysterious and did nothing to reassure me. “You’ll see. Now, I gotta go. Devin wants to go on a hot date tonight. Don’t forget about Monday!” she called over her shoulder as she headed to her SUV.

I let my head drop back against the hammock, squealing excitedly. Grace Morrison was one of _ the top _ music journalists ー armed with professionalism, fluid words, and the most intriguing and probing questions, she was the cream of the crop, the best of the best. Even if you somehow managed to snub her (which I couldn’t imagine anyone having done; she was just too personable without being overly friendly), she never wrote negative things about your music if you had the talent. Having an interview with Grace Morrison was the perfect way to get your name out there. She was pretty much the final word in the music word: Her reviews were golden.

  
**The Phoenix Reborn  
by Grace Morrison**

_ Erin McCarty, 19-going-on-20, is sprawled out on the living room floor of her parents’ beautiful two-storey home, skin flushed from a vigorous workout session. Her results flash on the screen, but we both ignore the Wii U game system: she, too intent on catching her breath; me, too focused on the attractive, guitar-playing, newly-solo singer. Her black hair is pulled into a short ponytail at the top of her skull, and her blue eyes are hidden behind unpainted lids. There is no denying her raw beauty. And there is also no room for contest when it comes to her talent. Complete Irrationality was signed when Erin was barely sixteen, and now, almost five years later, she’s released her own EP. She asks if I want anything to drink; when I decline, she walks through the hall to the kitchen, returning with a protein shake. _

_ I feel slightly overdressed as she sits on the couch, curling her bare feet beneath her. She’s wearing stretchy exercise shorts and a plain white sports bra. She gives me a small smile. Rumours of her shy personality have been confirmed. _

** _GM: So. You were part of a band that made international headlines, landing spots on tours with some of the biggest names in today’s industry. How did it feel to realise you’d made it so far in so little time? That you were famous worldwide?  
EM:_ ** _ (laughs) Oh, it was absolutely amazing! It still is. Some of my best memories ー and friends ー were made when Complete Irrationality was touring. _

** _GM: Speaking of people you met while on tour, was there every anything between you and Garrett Daniels (of Silent Playground)?  
EM:_ ** _ No. Good gods, no. Gee’s just… an amazing friend. Always has been, always will be. Nothing more, nothing less. _

** _GM: And One Direction’s Louis Tomlinson?  
EM:_ ** _ Nope. And I know, I know, you’re gonna mention the making out thing, right? (I nod.) Figured you would. It seems to still be big news when it comes to me. But nah. As any of my friends know, I get, well, super-lovey, I guess is the way to put it, when I’ve had too much to drink ー which was the case that night. Louis is super awesome, but totally not mine. _

** _GM: Well, that’s two rumours cleared up! Now, on this new EP, you’ve got a song that you wrote for Jem, “Home”. Is that what helped you moved past his death?  
EM:_ ** _ (silence, then a shaky breath) Yeah. It hurt like Hell, but I think if I hadn’t written it, I wouldn’t be nearly as composed as I am now. I’d probably still be locked away in my room, keeping everyone away. It was therapeutic. It definitely helped. _

** _GM: That’s good. But, and forgive me for this, but there are a couple songs that seem to clash with each other: “Lost” and “Remember Me”. Especially the line “Remember me as you’re alone. This prison you’ve made is now your home. Remember me as I live my life. As I walk away from all your lies.” in comparison to the lyrics of “Lost”. Then you have a cover of the iconic “Hopelessly Devoted to You”, originally done by Olivia Newton-John. Care to explain?  
EM:_ ** _ Of course. Well, to be honest, “Hopelessly Devoted” is absolutely iconic and beautiful. It’s one of my most favourite songs ever. So when I got permission to record a cover of it, I definitely jumped on it just to say that I did it. But lately, it’s began to hold a really deep meaning for me. There’s just… You know how it feels to know, deep inside with everything in you, that it’s a bad idea to love that one person but you just can’t stop yourself? Yeah, that’s what I was going through for a while. Still am, truthfully. _

** _GM: But the other two?  
EM:_ ** _ Okay. So both “Remember Me” and “Lost” are my way of saying “F**k you” to the feelings and the person who caused them. But, if you listen to the words of “Lost”, it’s… it’s almost hopeful, there in the end. It’s kinda saying that even through the pain and tears and everything I’ve gone through, I… I would do it again, I would keep trying everything I can to continue the relationship. So it’s kinda a hopeful song, as well. _

** _GM: And “Right Here” has an anti-suicide kind of theme to it.  
EM:_ ** _ Sort of. I mean, I guess, if you want to call it that, then sure. I can see why. I got the inspiration from a fan who [private messaged] me on Twitter who said she was going through a really, really rough time, and she was just so close to giving up. She said she wanted to message me to tell me how CI saved her life before, and we were her heroes, but she was starting to slip again. Her message made me cry, and the next thing I knew, “Right Here” was written. _

** _GM: And is that fan okay now?  
EM:_ ** _ Yeah! She made sure to message me again once the EP was released to tell me that the song was her favourite and she listened to it any time she felt like giving up. _

** _GM: I bet that makes you feel wonderful, to know that you’ve saved someone’s life like that.  
EM:_ ** _ Oh, absolutely! But honestly, it also terrifies the Hell out of me. It’s petrifying to think of how much influence that I, as a singular person, can have over anybody else. _

_ We end the interview shortly thereafter, and as I walk out the door, she resumes her exercises, and I think about our conversation. You may wonder why I didn’t ask the question to which you’re all dying to know the answer (I know this because of all the letters and emails I received after announcing that Erin was the subject of this interview): What exactly happened between Erin and Niall? And why have they not interacted at all since the weeks after Jem Rhodes’s death? But if you’d seen the expression on her face when discussing the inspiration behind “Lost”, “Hopelessly Devoted to You”, and “Right Here”... If you’d witnessed the absolute heartbreak in her voice and the pain in her eyes, you’d understand. There are some things that should just remain private, no matter how public the person. And Erin McCarty is nothing less than in the public’s eye ー and she’s very well-deserving of the attention, but she also deserves the right to privacy. _

_ You can catch her on a 22-stop tour starting this Wednesday, 15 October, as she promotes “Who Am I?” _

  



	23. twenty-three

The lobby was full of voices, loud enough to be heard over the music I was listening to through my headphones, and I looked up to see Liam and Louis standing in the hall chatting with Zayn. He was walking them through what we’d all done while they were gone, and annoyance surged up and threatened to overwhelm me. They had disappeared without warning or explanation, left us to look foolish when we couldn’t answer the questions from our management about their whereabouts, and here was Zayn, acting as if they had never been gone. Not one of them seemed upset or apologetic; in fact, they looked perfectly nonchalant. Liam glanced over at me, nudged the other two, and walked away toward the kitchen. Zayn followed close behind.

“Where did you two run off to?” I asked lightly as I pulled off my headphones and slid my phone into my pocket; Louis stared after our friends then faced me.

“Somewhere.”

“Erin’s first show?”

He hesitated but quickly recovered, and I couldn’t even pretend to enjoy the win of making him falter. “So what if we did?”

“Why did no one tell me? I would’ve liked to go, too.”

“Because she’s _our_ friend.”

“She’s my friend, too!” I shouted, finally losing my temper.

The lobby was deathly silent as I breathed heavily. It wasn’t right, they had just gone off to visit Erin and support her when I would have loved to have that chance as well. I could have also used the time to apologise, to try to make things right. I could’ve explained. Louis’s eyes were hard as he glared at me. Finally, breath shaky and hands trembling at his side, he spoke.

“No, she isn’t. You already proved that she means nothing to you.”

With no other words, he left me alone and stormed into the recording booth. A heavy numbness spread throughout my body; my face burned hot when I realised I was getting a lot of pitying stares from staff. I couldn’t even be angry at Louis, no matter how harsh and cruel he’d been. What I’d done, what I made Erin believe of me, was even worse. And the fact that she most likely thought I hated her ー or, harder to swallow still ー she no doubt hated me… it killed me to think. There wasn’t any way I could blame her or be upset with her for that, either. I had brought this on myself. Even before the supposed trist with that girl, I had never given Erin reason enough to trust me fully, to not wonder when I would change my mind or turn my back on her; being there for her throughout the aftermath of Jem’s death was a start, but then I’d mucked it all up. Blood pounded in my ears, and my heart ached deep in my chest. I had to do something, anything, to fix what I’d done wrong ー if fixing it was even a possibility.

_________________

“Surprise!”

I jumped back as my parents and closest friends shouted as one when I turned on the lights to my dressing room. Dozens of balloons floated in the air, and a large banner had been tacked to the wall. _Happy 19th Birthday, Erin!_ was printed in large letters, a dizzying array of colours. My jaw dropped; tears filled my eyes, and I rushed forward to hug as many people as I could in one go. The fact that these people ー these amazing, beautiful, special, wonderful people ー had come two states away from home to celebrate my twentieth birthday with me was… more than I expected. My mother laughed and wiped the tears from my cheeks.

“Oh, darling girl, you didn’t think we’d let this day pass just because you’re on the road, did you?”

“Honestly, yes! I figured we’d talk on the phone later or something. Not this!”

I accepted the cupcake someone handed me, giggling when it took three tries for Alan to light the candle stuck in the pale blue frosting. I could feel my face turning red as they sang the birthday song, loud and off-key and perfect, then blew out the flame after I’d made my wish. I knew it was a dumb one, and I’d wasted too many birthday wishes on a man who didn’t give a damn about me, but I ignored it, sticking with the hope that things would get better between Niall and me.

I had woken up to the Skype ringtone playing from right next to my ear; I’d answered in my half-asleep state, scrubbing at my eyes, and immediately flinched back when there were four voices singing _happy birthday_ to me, unimaginably loud through tinny speakers in my bunk. They had all promised to send me a gift in the mail as soon as they could; Louis offered his present to be a strip-tease during the video call. I’d nearly fallen out of my bunk laughing so hard when Zayn’s face had twisted up in disgust and Liam had shoved Louis out of frame. Liam had caught my eye looking toward the background, and I’d forced my face into an expression of absolute happiness and not disappointment when Niall was nowhere to be found. I hadn’t fooled him.

By the time showtime came around, my nerves were tattered. Everyone had been present during soundcheck, singing along on the floor; I wasn’t sure why I was so anxious. They’d all seen me perform before ー hell, I was in a band with two of them! I managed to make it through, though, with very little evidence of being anything less than thrilled with the day. I was getting ready for the set, doing some final vocal exercises and touch-ups to my makeup when someone knocked on the door to my dressing room. Bryan motioned for me to stay where I was and crossed the room to pull open the door.

The man on the other side seemed to shrink before my eyes as he took in Bryan’s hulking figure. “Uh, sorry for the interruption, but I have a package for a Miss Erin McCarty?”

Bryan took the slim package from the man, thanking him and closing the door in his face. He ran his hands along the envelope and, upon finding nothing suspicious, handed it over me. I turned it over and stared down at it. There was no return address, and the postmark was smudged into an incomprehensible blur. I picked at the edge of the flap but was interrupted by Amber in the doorway. With a sigh, I shoved the envelope into my bag and followed her to the stage. I would worry about the delivery later.

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

I waved as my mother and Patrick drove away first, their headlights disappearing from sight, and Amber’s Focus left shortly after, carrying her, Brett, Alan, and Jaz, a girl we’d gone to school and been somewhat friends with. According to Alan, they’d run into each other while on some hiking trails a few days before my interview with Grace Morrison, and they’d hit it off. I was ecstatic to see Alan happy; he deserved it after everything. He smiled and laughed more than he had in the past few months, and it took away some of the burden in my heart. And though Amber and Brett hadn’t said anything, I knew there was more between them than what they’d have me believe. They were closer than before ー not like I was complaining. I definitely preferred the not-so-subtle whispers in each other’s ears and glanced filled with affection over the constant bickering and snide remarks.

Once my loved ones were gone, I exhaled deeply, exhaustion settling heavily into my bones, and let Bryan guide me to the bus. I watched through the window as the venue slipped from sight then reached for my bag, pulling the envelope out. My fingers trembled as I peeled back the flap, and a folded-up piece of paper slid out onto my lap. I frowned and checked the envelope; inside were a smaller white envelope and a black-and-white photograph. My eyes stung when I saw the picture: the one Stefanie had taken on our tour, the day we’d become somewhat friends after the message from Patrick. We were walking beside each other, our bodies angled towards the other, and our faces were turned slightly to the floor. Even in the photo, I could see both of us looking at each other from the corner of our eyes, and our enormous smiles gave away no hint at what was to come. We were happy. _Were._

I let my head fall backwards onto the sofa and stared at the ceiling of the bus, closing my eyes to stem the tears. It wasn’t fair that this was happening. He wasn’t allowed to do this to me. Not now, not when I was moving on. Eventually, my curiosity got the best of me, and I unfolded the piece of paper and began reading.

_Erin,_   
_I am so so so so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was an idiot, and I don’t blame you or the lads for not wanting to talk to me. I know I have no right to ask this, but could you please give me the chance to explain? Please?_

_-Niall_   
_P.S. Happy birthday. I hope you like the gift. _

The guys weren’t talking to him? That was news to me. None of them had ever mentioned it during our multiple Skype calls. Then again, we never really talked about Niall if it could be avoided. I exhaled slowly in an attempt to slow my racing heart; I opened the last thing that had been in the envelope and immediately let out a delirious laugh. It was a ring. A fucking ring. It was a simple silver band with an infinity symbol in the top, a purple amethyst on one side of the symbol and an aquamarine on the other. Why the Hell would he send me a ring? There was _nothing_ between us now. Words on the outside of the small envelope caught my attention, and I brought it closer to my eyes so I could read them.

_Don’t worry, it isn’t an engagement ring. I saw it and thought of you, mostly because of the colours. And I remembered you told me about how you liked to think that nothing ever really ends, it’s all one infinite loop. Happy birthday again, love. _

I exhaled heavily and stared down at the ring in my hand. It was hard to believe that he would be able to remember that conversation; it had happened late one night after we first started talking, and I couldn’t sleep, so I’d gone for a walk around the block. He’d been in the pool, even though it was technically out-of-hours, and I joined him, sitting on the edge with my feet in the water, watching as he swam around. We eventually ended up sitting together and talking. My sleepiness had loosened my tongue, so it wasn’t long before I lost track of what I was saying. I didn’t even know he had been listening. Evidently, he had and found it important enough to remember.

Biting my lip, I unhooked my necklace and slipped the band onto the chain. It felt heavy against my chest when I tucked the necklace under my shirt. I turned off the overhead lights, made my way through the narrow walkway to my bunk. Maybe everything would be easier to process after some sleep.

**From: Bear** _Can you get on Skype?_

**To: Bear** _Can’t it wait? I’m really tired and wanna sleep! (Imagine me making a pouty face)_

**From: Bear** _As adorable as that sounds, it’s really important, and I promise it’s worth it. Pleeeeeease?_

I stared at the text bubble, debating whether I should do as Liam requested or just go to sleep. Finally, I realised he wouldn’t let me ignore him, so I sent back a thumbs-up emoji and crawled out of my bunk. I walked back to the lounge area, turned the lights back on, and grabbed my laptop. The familiar sound of an incoming video call sounded almost instantly after Skype loaded up. I clicked the answer button, and my jaw dropped, shock and anger flooding my body.

“What the Hell do you want?”

It didn’t come out nearly as angry as I wanted it to, just tired and worn down, but Niall still had the decency to look sheepish. I rubbed my hands over my face, pretended that his face wasn’t on my screen.

“Please just hear me out?”

“Liam?”

My friend appeared in the frame behind Niall, and his lips twisted into an apologetic smile. “Please? It wouldn’t hurt, would it.”

“I should’ve just gone to sleep,” I muttered before gesturing for Niall to continue.

“I… I know I messed up. Badly. The lads made sure I knew, believe me. I, er, I have no excuse for why it never crossed my mind to consider how you would feel, especially after I found out what I’d done. Being off my face wasn’t a good enough reason for my actions. It’s a way to rid myself of the blame, and I was okay with that before, but I don’t want to do it any longer. I just… I want you to know I’ll do anything to make up for it, to make things right. I know that I was mad at you for just kissing Louis. Mad and jealous. I can only imagine how you felt when you heard about what I did.”

“It hurt,” I whispered, and he started to speak, but I held up a hand. “It killed me to see pictures of you leaving some girl’s hotel room. Then you texted me asking me to tell you when it was all right for you to come back to my house, my _bed_, after you’d just left another’s. And you said you missed me. It was like you thought I was too damn stupid to figure out what you’d done.”

He sighed, ducked his head; his hand came up to scratch at the back of his neck. “I know, and I’m… god, Erin, I am so sorry. I was a moron. I’ll never regret anything more than going with that girl.”

“Did you fuck her?” I asked, ignoring the way my stomach jolted in disgust, and he blanched.

“No. I’ve, I’ve been over the memories I have of that night, and the last thing I remember is her leaving around one in the morning. But nothing like that.”

“And you really expect me to believe what you say that easily?”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, but I’m telling you the truth that she and I did not have sex. It… it didn’t feel right.”

I scoffed, spitting out, “What, couldn’t get it up?”

“No.”

I couldn’t help it ー I burst into humourless laughter, not caring about the fact that his face fell. My finger hovered over the trackpad on the laptop, the cursor on the End button. Eventually, I got a hold of myself, and Niall cleared his throat.

“There’s, well, there’s one other thing I’ve gotta say. Or do, I mean.”

“I guess go ahead, since we’ve gotten this far.”

He reached for something off-screen ー his guitar. He began strumming at the strings in a beautiful melody. The voice in my head was screaming for me to hang up, that this was a trick, but I couldn’t, he had me captivated. By the time he got halfway through “I’ll Be There for You” by Bon Jovi, I was sniffling as tears slipped slowly down my cheeks. His fingers started picking at a new line of chords; it was a song I didn’t recognise, though his voice made me forget about everything but the words coming from his mouth.

“I’d sell my soul just to see your face, and I’d break my bones just to heal your pain…”

I covered my face with my hands the longer he sang, unable to stop the tears and not wanting to show how affected I truly was. He finished the song after a last strum, and the connection grew quiet. I sniffed, wiped at my face with the sleeve of my shirt, and finally met his gaze. He smiled slightly, hopefully.

“I know this doesn’t begin to make up for what I’ve done, but… I hope it’s a start. I’m so unbelievably sorry, Erin. Can, can I have another chance?

I had just opened my mouth to answer when the laptop screen went black, and the power light blinked out of existence.

“Uh-oh…”


	24. twenty-four

I gaped, wide-eyed, at the dark screen of my laptop for a few minutes. I couldn’t believe the battery had died, especially not when it did. My brain snapped into gear, and I scrambled to my bunk, fumbled with my phone. It took a couple of tries to press the correct name in my contacts list, but finally, I managed to tap the green phone button and held the device to my ear. The call went straight to voicemail.

A frustrated, strangled groan escaped as I attempted to call again only to get the same response.  
  
_“Hi, it’s Niall. If you’ve reached this recording, it means I’m too busy or too lazy to answer the phone. Leave a message, and I’ll ring you back when I can.” _

My heart pounded in my chest, beating against my ribs in a painful rhythm, and I paced the walkway as I tried again and again and again. I had to get a hold of him, I had to tell him. Suddenly, I remembered who Niall was with on the Skype call, smacked my forehead, and winced at the pain even while I scrolled through the contacts until I reached **Bear**. He answered on the third ring, and I immediately launched into speech, not giving him a chance to say anything.

“Let me talk to him, Li, please. I have to speak to Niall.”

“This _is_ Niall.”

And gods, I had never been more relieved to hear that Irish accent. My words dried up in my throat, and I swallowed thickly. My tongue felt heavy, I forgot how to form words for a long moment.

“Erin?”

My eyes fell closed, and my heart jackhammered in my chest as I struggled against the tears. “Oh, fuck, hi. I’m so sorry. I forgot to plug my laptop in, the battery died. Sorry.”

“Oh. So…?”

I inhaled as steadily as I could before answering.

**_________________**

When the Skype call ended abruptly, my heart plummeted. That was the only answer Erin could give me ー a simple disconnect from a video chat. Liam stared at me, brown eyes full of sympathy. It had taken quite a while to convince him to believe me, but once he no longer doubted me, he had instantly done what he could to help. He had even given me pep talks multiple times, explained that he was only looking out for Erin’s best interest and that he wholly agreed with her actions of cutting off contact in response to the news of the girl and me. He also made it a point of warning me against hurting her for a third time.

I don’t think either of us were expecting _this_, though. This time, I wasn’t the one doing the damage. I slumped in the chair and clenched my jaw to stop the tears from coming. My hands itched to throw my guitar, to slam it into the wall over and over until it shattered into pieces; Liam clasped my shoulder gently, and I avoided eye contact. I didn’t think I could handle the pity right now.

“At least you tried, mate. That’s all you can do.”

I shrugged his hand away and reached up to hold my head. My fingers gripped my hair tightly, tugging at the strands until the throbbing in my head matched the hurt in my heart. How could I have been so damn stupid for so long? How could I have let Erin slip through my fingers, why did I hurt her so many times? She hadn’t deserved any of what I’d done to her; this was all my fault. My vision pulsed at the edges, signalling the start of a migraine. Suddenly, Liam tapped my shoulder rapidly. I looked up to see him holding out his phone. **Toaster Strudel** was calling.

“Hurry,” he hissed, “answer it!”

I took the device and shakily dragged a finger across the screen to answer the call. Pressing the phone to my ear, I started to say a greeting but was forced to stop as a flood of words came pouring down the line in a breathless, crackling rush.

“Let me talk to him, Li, please. I have to speak to Niall.”

“This _is_ Niall,” I muttered, somehow managing to get a hold of my emotions so that my voice didn’t shake. She didn’t respond immediately, and I frowned, pulled the phone away to see if the call had dropped. “Erin?”

“Oh, fuck, hi. I’m so sorry. I forgot to plug my laptop in, the battery died. Sorry.”

“Oh. So…?”

I held my breath as I waited, but I had little hope for the answer I wanted. Her inhale was audible down the line; I bit my lip, pressed a hand to my eyes. _This is it, Niall. She’s not going to say yes. You made too many mistakes and hurt her too much. She’s ー _

“Yes. Fuck, Niall. You have another chance. Yes.”

_Wait, what?_ I choked on air once her words registered. My teeth caught my bottom lip in my effort to stop myself from shouting out. She wanted me back. After everything, she was willing to take me back. Liam gave me a questioning look, but I ignored him, focused solely on the news I’d just received.

“Are… are you serious?”

“Yeah, absolutely serious. This isn’t a joke, Ni, I promise. But…” She sighed, and I ached to hold her. When she spoke next, her voice was soft but steady.“It won’t be easy, I hope you know that. I’ve spent so long trying to get over the hurt you caused me on more than one occasion, and if you do anything to ruin this relationship, I will walk away and not look back. I can’t do it again.”

“I’m, I’m not asking for easy, love. All I want is a chance to prove myself to you.”

“Well, you’ve got it. Don’t fuck it up again. Okay, I… I really don’t want to do this, but it’s almost two in the morning here. I’m exhausted and about to fall asleep standing up. So I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely. Get some sleep. Goodnight, Erin.”

“‘Night, Niall. Tell Liam I’ll yell at him tomorrow.”

I was still laughing when she hung up. Liam pounced as soon as I lowered the phone, bombarded me with questions. I merely smiled in reply and relayed the message; he followed me to the living room, sitting on me after I sprawled out on the couch, demanding answers. I threw an arm over my face and grinned widely. I felt like nothing could destroy the happiness that consumed me. Erin was right ー this absolutely wasn’t going to be easy. There would be times she would not believe what I told her, and I would have to be patient and reassure her of my commitment. I knew I wouldn’t knowingly do anything to jeopardise what I had with her again, but I was willing to do everything I possibly could to make sure she was happy with me, that she didn’t doubt how much I cared for her and needed her. I refused to risk giving her a reason to doubt me. I’d done it before, but I wouldn’t do it again.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face.


	25. twenty-five

I dragged my gaze away from the ring on my hand, the one Niall had gotten me for my birthday, and back down to my phone, laughing again when I saw the screenshot Amber had sent me. I’d looked at it a minimum of fifteen times in the four hours since I’d received it, but it seemed to get funnier each and every time. She hadn’t been overly thrilled when I told her I had forgiven Niall, but she didn’t dwell on it, just told me to be careful and no one would find his body if he hurt me again. Giggling, I decided to forward the image to Harry with a winky face.

“What’s so funny?” Owen asked, stopping by my table on his way to refill his cup at the soda dispenser.

“Oh, just something a friend texted me.”

“Inside joke?”

“Eh, not really. Um, Niall ー y’know, from One Direction ー had Tweeted ‘You know you messed up bad when someone writes a song about you…’ Well, Amber got a screenshot of someone’s reply of, um, ‘But I thought Harry’s been through with TSwift for a while now…?’” I grimaced when he didn’t laugh along with me. “I dunno, it just cracked me up.”

The drummer shook his head with a smile. “Man, kids these days find humour in the dumbest shit.”

“Hey!” I pouted. “That’s not very nice of you. And I’ll have you know, I’m almost officially out of my ‘teens, thank you very much!”

He walked away laughing, and I went back to texting Amber with a smile on my face. We were only a third of the way through the second small tour that my management company had organised, and each of the venues had been ridiculously packed. Fans had lined up outside the building in the mornings, waiting for literal hours to catch a glimpse of me before the show in the evening. We’d had to add on another two months of dates just because of the demand from fans that they wanted to come to a show. It had been a bit hectic to figure out, but eventually, my crew and I told management we didn’t really care if it pushed back the schedule for the full-length album ー it was worth it to make people happy. I’d done my best to say hi to everyone everywhere we went; unfortunately, it just wasn’t possible. There were too many fans and only one of me.

I was also working on my anxiety. Patrick had found a highly-recommended therapist who would accommodate my hectic schedule. For now, our sessions were held via telephone or Skype twice a week. He was, in my eyes, a miracle worker just for that alone. But the fact that he’d take my calls at any time (unless he was with another patient, then his wife would talk to me) made him a damn near saint. Doctor Kimball had admitted that he wasn’t pleased with the fact that I seemed to have accepted Niall back into my life with little hesitation, but he was proud of the fact that I was learning to trust myself and others. I’d been sitting high on that praise for over a week now.

I finished my coffee as Zach signalled for the server. Once the bill was paid, we headed to the bus, and I waited until the others had boarded before following suit; Bryan pushed me toward the kitchen area so I wouldn’t sit next to him ー he liked to say I annoyed him, but I knew better. I laid down on the couch in the lounge, stretched out. Amber had stopped messaging me now, which meant she’d gone to work. My mother was busy with teaching, and Patrick was who knows where, doing who knows what ー although I was pretty sure he was at the house trying to set up his business again. I had become accustomed to his presence. To tell the truth, it was almost… _nice_ to call the house and hear his voice instead of my mom’s. He was company when I was home and would normally be alone, and he told me some amazing stories about his life when he was a kid. He’d also informed me about my half-sister and -brother, Jonna and Riley. They wanted to meet my mother and me; even _their_ mom was interested in the idea. I, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure. It felt wrong, almost, to consider meeting the family my father had created after abandoning us the way he did.

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

Another successful show came to a close; I waved and bowed at the screaming crowd before walking backstage. I’d asked the One Direction guys if they minded if I did a cover of one of their songs, and of course, I had received a resounding “do it do it do it do it”, so I’d had Joe video me singing _Little Things_ so I could send it to my friends later. Bryan ushered me to the dressing room and stood outside the door while I hurried to wash up. One thing I had always refused to do was meet fans when I looked like a sweat-soaked raccoon. He stayed by my side as I made my way to the tables where I’d be signing autographs and taking pictures.

The line began dwindling down after an hour; I was grateful for the support the fans were giving me, but at the moment, all I wanted was to load up onto the bus and leave so that I could sleep. I did a rough count of how many people were still waiting, then forced a smile when I saw there were only around twenty more fans left. Bryan motioned for the next girl to come to the table. She grinned widely, and I held out a hand for whatever she wanted me to sign; she had other plans, however, and threw her cup of soda at my face. I sat there, dumbfounded and with my hand still hanging stupidly in midair, as sticky liquid splashed over my face and dripped down my body. Her fist drew back and then came toward me at full-speed; deafening shouts echoed chaotically throughout the large area, and I brought a hand up, unable to concentrate on anything other than my attempts to stem the flow of blood pouring from my nose.

A pair of hands grabbed at me roughly, yanked me from my seat, and I stumbled along behind the person, hoping they were leading me somewhere safe and not into yet another flying fist. I coughed when blood trickled down the back of my throat, and a wad of toilet paper was pressed against my nose. I took over to keep it there and made my way to the bathroom to spit the blood from my mouth.

“Jesus, can’t leave you alone for one second, can we?”

I tried smiling at Zach’s statement but only succeeded in exacerbating the pain in my nose instead. “Apparently not. Thanks for getting me outta there.”

“Any time. It’s what friends are for, right?”

“I guess.” I sighed and pulled the mass of bloody tissue from my face, biting my lip at how red and soaked it was. “Think the bitch broke my nose?”

“Um, I’m not a doctor, so don’t take this as, like, a solid diagnosis, but… maybe? It looked like she put a helluva lot of force behind that swing. _Some_body needs anger management.”

The door slammed open behind us, and I whirled on my heel, immediately cowering under Bryan’s enraged glare. I knew he wasn’t mad at _me_, I was the innocent victim in all this, but still, he was scary. He grabbed my chin in one hand and gingerly touched the bridge of my nose with the other. I hissed at the pain of the pressure but remained still so he could perform the examination. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh.

“Not broken.”

A weight seemed to lift off my shoulders at his words. He ordered me to stay right where I was (“I swear to God, Erin, if you move even one muscle, I will kick your ass from here to Timbuktu.”) and left the room. Zach raised his eyebrows but stayed silent when Joe took up position as guard outside the room. Within minutes, Bryan reappeared with a cloth of ice in hand; I barely got the cold pack against my nose before he was ushering us out the back door and onto the buses. Thankfully, he didn’t leave me alone, instead climbing onto the bus behind me, pulling the door shut, and sitting down in the kitchenette area. I rolled my eyes, grabbing my laptop, and headed for the lounge in the back. Skype automatically loaded up and logged me in, and I double-clicked on a name. As soon as the call connected, Niall’s smile fell from his face.

“Shit, love. What the Hell happened?”


	26. twenty-six

I bit my lip, stared down at the keyboard of my laptop. I could either tell Niall what happened and hope he wouldn’t freak out too much, or I could pretend I’d somehow done it to myself on accident. That second option was immediately vetoed when I realised that multiple videos of the incident would be on YouTube within hours, and if I lied about it and he ended up stumbling onto a recording of it, he wouldn’t take it very well; instead, we’d be fighting or not talking ー again. I tapped my finger on the plastic casing of my computer and drew in a steadying breath.

By the time I was finished telling him what happened, he looked downright murderous. His normally bright blue eyes, so happy and full of life, were dark with anger, and his jaw ticked with the force of him clenching his teeth together. His shaky breathing was audible even through the video connection; I chewed on the inside of my cheek, waited for him to say something, anything.

“Please tell me you’re going to press charges against her.”

“I, uh… I haven’t thought that far ahead, honestly. I was too busy trying to stop the bleeding and get away from her.”

He nodded slowly, but I could tell he wasn’t thrilled with lack of definitive yes. “Are you all right otherwise?”

“Yeah, babe. I’m fine. I mean, I’ll have a nasty bruise, and holy hell does my face hurt. But Bry says my nose isn’t broken, so that’s good, right?”

“I wish I’d been there,” he admitted quietly, and I cocked my head to the side, frowning.

“Why? It’s not like anybody knew she was going to do that. You couldn’t have stopped her.”

“Well, no, but at least I would be there to take care of you now.”

I sighed with a soft smile, shifting to get more comfortable. “Ni, doll, stop. Please. Okay? There’s no point in beating yourself up. It’s done, and we can’t change that. Besides, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself, ya know. Been doin’ it for twenty years. All I need to hear from you is that I still look good, even with a squashed nose. Or is a bruised and bloody face _not_ a massive turn-on of yours?”

“Not funny,” he snapped, and my eyes rolled as he glared at me through the screen.

“I thought it was.”

“You do realise that when the lads hear about this, they’re going to be just as angry as I am, right?”

My humour dropped away instantly, and it hit me that he was right: The guys would be absolutely incensed at the news. I scratched at my eyebrow and shrugged.

“You’ll be a good boyfr ー boy and tell them I’m fine, though… right?”

“Were you, were you about to say boyfriend?”

I froze for a moment then raised my hand to pick at the dry skin on my lip as my cheeks burned. “Uh, maybe?”

“That’s adorable.”

“Hey, answer the damn question!” I demanded, laughing awkwardly, and his grin widened.

“Yes, I’ll be a good _boyfriend_ and tell them you’re fine. And still immensely sexy and beautiful, even with a squashed nose.”

I buried my face in my hands, shaking my head at his words. Quickly changing the subject to something other than myself, I told him how the show had gone and stared at him through the screen. I knew it was early where he was ー the shadows under his eyes and the stifled yawns were proof enough ー but I couldn’t refrain from being selfish, from keeping him on the call. His voice was what I needed to hear after the Hell I’d endured that day. I loved seeing his face, and I hated the thought of not having that even for a few hours.

He informed me that our friends were now treating him like they used to, as if the drama hadn’t occurred. My smile must have seemed off as he talked about how excited he was to release their singles and tour again, because his voice trailed off, and he gave me a concerned look. I fidgeted but voiced my concerns: How were we going to make this work if we never saw each other? What would happen if we found the distance and hectic schedules to be too much?

“Erin, love. You’re overthinking this. Yes, it’ll be difficult and crazy and take a lot of juggling things around, but if we’re both invested in this relationship, which I most certainly am, then we’ll find a way to make it work. Believe me, I’m all in for the long run. I’m not going to give up just because things get hard.”

“What if you find someone else? Someone you like better than me?”

“Crazy girl. I sang you two love songs over Skype, one of which I’d never even heard before but found the lyrics to and realised it fit our situation. I learned it because I couldn’t stand not having you in my life for one more second. Yes, there may be a girl out there who I’m more compatible with, who I might like more, but that’s only because… well, let’s face it. You’re stubborn, and so am I, so we clash sometimes. But don’t ever think I will find someone I love more than you.

“It might be too soon, but…” He shrugged, sighing, and I blinked away the tears. “It’s true. I do. I love you, and that will never change. Maybe I haven’t shown you well enough just how much I need you and only you, but I’m gonna change that. You are the only one who’s ever made me feel this way, love, so stop worrying your pretty little head over this. Let’s just take it day by day, and I’ll prove how much I love you and that I am not going anywhere. Deal?” He paused, squinting his eyes, and his head tilted. “Are you crying?”

**.:.:.:.:.:.**

The makeup artist groaned in frustration. “Honey, there’s nothing I can do. This is just… too much.”

“That’s fine. I kinda figured it’d be pretty hard to cover.”

It had been two days since the attack after my show, and the black-purple-blue discolouration around my nose and under my eyes was more prominent than it was after I was first punched. Though Kellie had tried masking the bruising with loads of makeup, all she’d succeeded in doing was making me look like a prostitute. She sighed, grabbed a wipe, and scrubbed my face clean. I sat back and let her do her job. Finally, with significantly less powder, I was led to the little hall that connected with the stage. The host finished introducing me, and I strode out into the bright lights amidst loud applause and cheering. He embraced me quickly; we both took our seats, and I smiled brightly at Craig Ferguson.

“Well, welcome, welcome, Erin! First time here, yes?”

“Yeah, yeah, it is. It doesn’t feel quite real yet, either. Where’s Geoff?” I shifted in my seat, staring around wildly until my gaze landed on the animatronic human skeleton, his vivid blue ‘eyes’ shining brightly in the skull. “Oh! Oh, my Gods, there he is!”

The audience laughed at my outburst, but I ignored them; I’d been watching _The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson_ for years, so I had become an enormous fan of both the host and the sidekick. Craig and I exchanged a few jokes before he got down to business. His eyes darted from my nose then back up, and he smiled widely.

“So you seem to be sportin’ a pretty big bruise. What exactly happened?”

“I, uh, I basically got a soda shower followed by a punch to the face. No idea, why, though,” I said with an exaggerated shrug.

“Well, you look as amazing as ever.”

“Aw, thanks!”

He tapped the edge of the cards in his hands against the top of his desk. “How is the tour going? How is being a solo artist?”

“Minus the, um, wayward fist mishap, it’s been awesome. I’m having so much fun. It’s definitely a lot different than touring and making music with my best friends, but it’s not a bad different.”

“I’m glad to hear it. You had to add more dates to the tour, yeah? Was that something you’d thought about doing prior to setting out, or…?”

“No, actually, that was because my management company was keeping tabs on social media, paying attention to what the fans were saying, and when they’d spent seven hours reading nothing but tweets and posts asking for more, well, they caved.” The audience cheered. I chuckled softly and brushed a curl from my face. . “It was the right choice, and I’m thankful every day that they gave us the go-ahead.”

“Well, we’ve some questions fans have tweeted to us that they’d like to ask. You ready?”

“I… honestly doubt it, but let’s go!”

_What do you miss most when on the road?_ “Truthfully? My mom.” Everybody, including Craig, laughed loudly, and I threw my hands in the air with an enormous grin. “Not even ashamed of that, at all.”

_How hard is it singing “Home” every night?_ “It was a lot harder in the beginning. But now, it’s… it’s kinda like the song has always been a part of me. It doesn’t hurt as much to sing it, no matter how much I wish he was still around.”

_What happened between you and Niall?_ “Oh, my gosh. Well, it was a pretty massive, how should I say this?” I wrinkled my nose at Craig when he gestured insistently for me to continue, “it was a disagreement, I guess is the best way to put it. But we talked, and everything’s settled now.”

Craig’s brows furrowed, and he waved a hand in the air to quiet the sudden burst of noise from the audience. “Wait, wait, wait! ‘Settled’? Does this mean… Erin McCarty, does this mean that you and Niall are dating now?”

I stilled with my mouth open slightly before raising a finger. The fingers of my left hand awkwardly typed out a message, and I flashed an uncomfortable smile as I waited for a reply. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for my phone to vibrate.

**From: Ni-baby** _If you want it to, then yes, I’m your boyfriend that you are 100% dating_

“Done?” he asked when I looked back up at him.

“Yeah, sorry, probably should have figured that out _before_ now.”

“Just maybe,” he responded with a chuckle. “So? Yay or nay? The world wants ー nay, it _needs_ to know! Don’t leave us hanging!”

A laugh spilled out of me before I could stop it, but he had made it almost impossible to not react to his expression: wide eyes, hands gripping the edge of the desk tightly enough that his knuckles turned white, leaning toward me and dramatically shaking in anticipation of my response. I held the phone up to Craig to show him the text, and he toppled out of his chair in a show of theatrics. I nodded to the laughing crowd, and their amusement turned to screams of delight. Craig hauled himself back up into his seat and folded his hands beneath his chin.

“Can you please tell these lovely people what name you have set for him? Because it was the most adorable name I’ve ever seen.”

I blushed and ducked my head, rolling my eyes. “He’s in my phone as Ni-baby, okay? There, now you all know the most embarrassingly, sickeningly sweet name I have in my contact list!”

Craig, thankfully, let the subject drop and asked a few more questions before announcing a break. After hugging him again, I walked backstage to change out of my floral-print dress into a pair of black skinny jeans, a white tank-top, and cropped leather jacket. Kellie hurried to fix my makeup, pinned my curls back, and flashed me a thumbs-up. I bounced to my feet out of the chair and followed a security guard back to the stage. I stood behind the microphone that techs had set up while the cameras were off. Craig came to my side right as the camera operator signalled they were rolling again.

“And we’re back. So, Erin, you performed this song for the first time publicly while on tour with One Direction, correct?”

“Yeah, it hadn’t ever been played before that.”

He turned to the camera ー and the audience, by default. “This is the lovely Erin McCarty performing ‘Confessions’.”

I took a deep breath and started to sing.

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

I took my suitcase from the driver’s hand, passed over the money, and walked through the gate at the end of the sidewalk. The cab pulled away from the curb, and I stopped at the front door, hesitating. I slipped my hand over the pocket of my sweatpants, breathing out in relief when I felt the familiar hard rectangle of my phone. Eventually, I decided I couldn’t put it off any longer; I knocked on the door and waited. Minutes passed without answer, and my frustration grew the more I just stood there. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I knocked again, harder this time. The second attempted more successful, and I bit my lip as I heard footsteps on the other side of the door. The person who answered, though, wasn’t who I expected.

“Uh, who are you?” I asked, my eyes narrowing at the sight of the gorgeous blonde girl, and her jaw dropped, fingers coming up to cover her mouth.

“Oh, my God, Erin McCarty?”

“Yeah, who are you?”

“Gem, who is it?” Harry came into view, stumbled to a stop as he stared wide-eyed at me. “Oh, uh. Oi, Niall, it’s for you, mate.”

“Well, obviously, as this is my house,” my favourite voice called back from a distance.

My heart began beating painfully against my ribs, and I wiped my suddenly-clammy hands on my pants. I recognised the slow, steady steps that came nearer; my breath caught in my throat when he rounded the corner. His steps faltered, ceased, and I smiled shyly in the face of those gorgeous blue eyes and surprised expression, mouth opened in an ‘o’.

“_Erin_?”

“Hey, Niall.”


	27. twenty-seven

Niall stood in the doorway, staring at me with wide eyes. Harry looked between us, grabbed the girl by the elbow, and dragged her away; I raised a hand to wiggle my fingers in my boyfriend’s direction, and that seemed to spur him into action. He rushed forward, tugged me into a tight hug. I giggled at the scratch of his stubble against my neck, wrapping my arms around him and squeezing.

“As much as I love your hugs, and babe, I really do, are we _really_ going to stand on your doorstep like this forever?”

He slowly pulled away and laced his fingers with mine, shutting the door once my suitcase and I crossed the threshold. I let my fingers through his hair, stretching slightly to press my lips to his. He exhaled sharply through his nose; my brain fuzzed out as he kissed back, and I had a lazy, drifting thought that this was our first actual kiss ー all other times had been on the cheek or forehead. Something unfurled in my gut, and I dove headfirst into the spreading warmth. We parted after a long moment, reluctant but grinning.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered, gaze heavy and awed as his eyes trailed over my face. “I’m not complaining, but…”

“I wanted to see you, but I can go if you really want,” I teased, turning as if to leave.

His arms tightened around me, holding me in place, and I smiled up at him. “No, don’t ever go.”

My heart melted at his words; I felt my knees go a little weak, and I wanted to stand there being held by him until the end of time. We didn’t have to do anything, really, as long as I was secure in his arms. Unfortunately, loud voices nearing the entryway reminded me that he wasn’t the only one I’d come to visit, just the main one. Louis yelled excitedly, and Niall let go of me just in time as our friend swept me up and spun me around. It reminded me of just how close we’d gotten while on tour, all the memories I had with him. Harry gave me a much more simple hug, kissing my hair before pulling back. The girl who’d answered the door merely waved, but there was something about her expression that told me her calmness was a facade.

“Oh, Erin, this is my sister, Gemma,” announced Harry lazily; I could see the familial resemblance once I was no longer jealous.

“It’s so nice to meet you.”

“You, too. Oh, my god, I’m such a huge fan!”

Niall’s arm went around my shoulders, and his free hand grabbed the handle to my luggage. “C’mon, love, I’ll show you where to put your stuff. Erm, Harry and Gemma took over the guest rooms, but I could bunk with Harry if you want one to yourself.”

“Now why would I come all this way just to make you subject yourself to such torture?” I asked, cackling at the way Harry’s face twisted up in affront. “Nah, it’s fine, really. You and I can share a room.”

I followed him down the hall, passing a kitchen to the left and the living room the right. He pushed open the first door after we turned the corner, and I smiled at the sight of a somewhat messy bedroom. The eggshell-white walls were covered with photos; the hamper in the corner was about halfway full with laundry, and I smiled. _At least they’re not everywhere_, I thought as I continued taking in the room before me. The queen-sized bed rested in front of the window across from the door, and my body reacted with yearning at how thick and oh-so-inviting the black comforter looked. I hadn’t slept much during the flight ー I was too excited to doze off, no matter how much my eyes were burning from needing rest. The older woman who’d sat in the seat next to me had laughed at my impatience, the way I kept checking the clock every thirty minutes, how my knee had bounced the longer we were in flight.

“Let me guess: boyfriend?”

I’d nodded and explained how Liam and Zayn had set up the surprise visit, and how I hadn’t seen Niall in months except through video calls. She’d given me a bit of advice on making the time with him the best, an impish grin spreading mischievously across her face: “Get some, girl.” I’d been beyond shocked at her words; she had to have been in her early-seventies. I chuckled at the memory. Niall pressed himself against my back, and his arms looped around my waist.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, just thinking about the flight.”

“I am so glad you’re here,” he whispered after a moment, nuzzling his face into the soft flesh beneath my ear, and I struggled to keep my breathing steady.

“So am I.”

A knock sounded from the doorway behind us, and I tried to turn to see the newcomer but was stopped by Niall. I sighed softly, remained where I was, even as Zayn’s voice sounded.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“Would you care if you were?” Niall grumbled.

“Well, I guess not, but I’d like to know if I can uncover my eyes, you tosser.”

I exchanged a confused glance with Niall, and we moved as one to face Zayn. I immediately burst into laughter. Sure enough, he had his hands over his face to shield himself from seeing anything explicit ー though why he would think we would do something of that calibre with the door wide open, and within five minutes of my arrival, was beyond me. I stepped out of Niall’s grasps, pulling on Zayn’s wrists, and he dropped his hands with an enormous smile. He and I had become better friends during the whole ordeal with Niall, and he’d even promised to ‘put a foot up Niall’s large, stupid arse’ if anything my boyfriend did made me cry even one tear. His threat had been made in a, I think, joking manner, but I was sure he wouldn’t hesitate to exact some sort of justice if I got hurt again.

“Vas happenin’. I just wanted to make sure you’d gotten here safely since somebody didn’t text me like she said she would, and I couldn’t exactly ask Harry in case you weren’t here yet. We all know he can’t keep a secret to save his sorry life.”

I laughed as Harry’s voice echoed down the hall; I couldn’t hear the words, but the tone was undeniably indignant. Zayn gave me a last smile and hug then walked away, shutting the door behind him.

“If you want, you can rest a bit,” Niall offered, and I let him pull me in. “I’ll make sure that lot leaves you alone.”

“Ni, if I take a nap now, I won’t sleep tonight. But… I guess I can lie down if you do.”

He sighed exaggeratedly and yelped when I shoved him backward onto the mattress. I unzipped my hoodie and let it fall to the floor beside the bed, and he scooted over so that he was closer to the wall. I slipped between the blankets, wiggling until I was curled up against him. The scent of his cologne was comforting, wrapped around me like a warm cocoon of security. Contrary to what I told Niall, I fell asleep within twenty minutes.

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

When I awoke, it was to an empty bed and silent room. I stared up at the ceiling, blinking slowly. I had no idea how long I had slept, but my body was telling me it wasn’t nearly enough. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I shoved the blanket back and padded across the thick carpet to the door. The house was quiet outside the room, and I shuffled down the hall toward the living room, where everyone had been when I’d arrived. I barely reached the archway to my destination when the sound of hushed voices in the kitchen stopped me dead in my tracks. I tiptoed backwards, leaned against the wall outside the kitchen, and listened.

“Are you sure?”

“_Yes_. I saw them with my own eyes, Harry.”

“Don’t snap at me, Gem, I just wanted to make sure.”

“Well, you should believe me.”

“I do. It’s just… hard to believe, especially after everything he’d said. What were they even doing?”

“Kissing! Like, pressed up against the wall, hot and heavy, only seen in rom-coms, practically one body kind of kissing. I think his hands may have been up her shirt. They pulled away with _the_ guiltiest look ever as soon as I walked into the room, so I couldn’t see everything very well.”

There was complete silence from the two siblings, and I leaned harder into the wall. _Please tell me they’re not talking about Niall please tell me they’re not talking about Niall please…_ I gagged as bile crept up my throat and pushed away from the wall. Suddenly, I heard Harry speaking.

“Do you think we should tell Erin?”


	28. twenty-eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, if you look at the tags and rating, you can see they’ve changed. this chapter and the next both contain mature themes. if you’re not comfortable with that, then you should probably skip those parts. in this chapter, it begins with the second to last actual paragraph (not including the very last line, which is dialogue). for those skipping that section, i’ll put the important not-smutty bits/a synopsis in the end notes!

“Tell me what?” I questioned shakily as I made my way into the kitchen; my knees felt weak, like they were made of water.

If I hadn’t been feeling like the very floor I was standing on was going to swallow me at any second, the expression on Harry and Gemma’s faces would have made me go insane with laughter. His eyes were wide, and he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, resembling a fish on dry land. Gemma had paled significantly. A deep blush began spreading across her cheeks. Her eyes flitted nervously between her brother and me, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip. I crossed my arms over my chest and raised an eyebrow; I was just grateful that I’d had so much practice forcing a calm facade to mask inner turmoil. Finally, Harry swallowed audibly and spoke, but his words were far from what I expected:

“Liam’s got himself a girlfriend.”

“_What_?”

“Yeah. Gem caught him and that photographer from our tour.”

“Stefanie?”

“Yes, her!” he said loudly, snapping his fingers in recognition.

“A-and… wait, what?”

Gemma shot me a quizzical look. “You act like you’re relieved, not shocked.”

I sat in the chair next to her, lowering myself down slowly to prevent my body from collapsing to the floor with my relief. “Well, I mean… he kinda told me he was dating Stefanie when he came to my first solo show. I guess I’m sort of shocked that they’re still together, but it’s not totally unexpected, I guess.”

“Did you think we were talking about Niall?” asked Harry in a quiet voice, and I hesitated then nodded sheepishly, honestly ashamed of how easily my trust in my boyfriend had wavered. “Trust me, I don’t think he’s even so much as _looked_ at another girl since, well, you know. We all know that you two are perfect for each other. And besides, even if he wasn’t in love with you, I don’t think he’d cheat now that you are both on the same page in regards to the relationship. He won’t mess things up again.”

I sighed, sat back in my chair. “I know that. I _do_. But it’s just… hard sometimes to believe that I’m good enough for him, y’know? Especially after all the shit we’ve gone through.”

“Don’t let your insecurities get in your way, babe,” murmured Gemma as she leaned over to hug me from the side, and I nodded, though I was slightly annoyed at her words - she meant well, but that kind of advice wasn’t helpful at all; if I could stop my insecurities from getting in the way, I wouldn’t have such a hard time accepting that Niall and I were actually together and he wasn’t going to leave me.

“I’ll try. So, uh, where is Niall?”

“He went with Liam to get food. He’s been living off Nando’s while we were recording, but Gem here, er, suggested politely that you would probably prefer actual food.”

“Ah. Okay. Well, I’m gonna go take a shower. I feel gross.”

They waved me off, and I walked back to Niall’s room. He’d set my suitcase by the closet door, which was smart of him. If he had put it _in_ the closet, I probably would never have found it on my own; I had a thing against going through someone else’s room, even when it was Amber. Once I set the suitcase on the bed and unzipped it, I rifled through the clothes inside then groaned. Stupid me had forgotten to pack pyjamas in my rush to get everything gathered and be on my way. I sat on the edge of the bed, flopping backwards and cursing myself; after a few moments, I shrugged and decided it wouldn’t necessarily be a crime to borrow some clothes from my boyfriend. I ignored the _this is wrong don’t go through his stuff this is wrong wrong wrong_ alarm in my brain and opened the closet. Dozens of shirts and pairs of pants hung on the rod, and I moved top after top until I spotted one of my favourites of his: a white tank with the American flag emblazoned on the front. I gingerly took it off its hanger, bringing it to my nose and inhaling the worn-in scent of Niall, before deciding that I could find bottoms _after_ my shower. I grabbed my underwear from my suitcase and headed to the bathroom.

The hot water beat down on my shoulders, the tension in my muscles draining almost immediately. I ran my fingers through my hair, winced when strands wrapped around the digits and tugged out of my scalp when I pulled my hands away. I twisted the hair into a ball and set it on the ledge of the shower-wall. I didn’t want to take too long to shower, because I knew that Niall would most likely be back soon, so I hurried through washing my hair and scrubbing my body with a washcloth that I found in the bathroom cupboard.

I stepped out of the bathroom wearing Niall’s shirt with a towel wrapped around my hips and another twisted around my hair to catch the rest of the moisture. I’d just taken a step toward the dresser where I assumed his sleep clothes were when I caught sight of the boy I loved standing by the bed, clad in only a pair of boxer-briefs, and stopped short. He glanced up from the phone in his hands; a smile instantly lit up his face, but I was too busy drinking in the sight of so much of his skin on display to smile back. He tossed the device onto the bed next to him and stepped closer, his arms held out. I stepped into his hold and grinned up at him; my finger dragged along his chest, tickled by the curls there.

“Has anyone ever told you how breathtakingly beautiful you are?” he whispered, leaning his forehead against mine.

A flippant response was on my tongue, something about how he was just saying that because I was fresh from the shower and only covered by a towel and his shirt, but the words died in my throat at the seriousness on his face, the lack of humour in his eyes. Instead, what came out was “It’s never meant much until you said it.”

“I hope you believe it.”

“I… I do now.”

No further words were spoken as he pressed his lips to mine. I melted into the kiss; it was soft, sweet, loving, and sparks danced up my spine to explode behind my closed eyelids. Sure, I’d had a few first kisses before - some too short, too long, too sloppy - and he and I had already locked lips in the hallway shortly after I showed up, but this was entirely different. Nothing could have prepared me for the intense electricity coursing through me, twisting my nerves as it diffused through my entire being. I snaked my arms around his neck, pressed closer to him. He deepened the kiss, and I couldn’t find it in me to give a damn when the towel fell to the floor. I let him guide me where he wanted me to be, too far gone in the heady feeling to care much about anything other than keeping the tendrils of fiery passion lit as they surged up inside of me, fanning with the contact into flames that swallowed me whole. The back of my knees hit the bed, and I fell back, bouncing as I landed on the mattress; he quickly covered my body with his, and I shivered at the way his fingers slid, light as a feather, over my skin and his lips found their way to the curve of my neck.

A breathy moan escaped me, hung in the air, and he smiled against my neck. I gasped when he wrapped an arm around me and abruptly rolled us over so that I was straddling him. His hands made quick work of my top, lifting it over my head and throwing it across the room. I leaned down and kissed him again, hard and insistent, and his hands skimmed over my sides before coming up to cup my breasts; the pad of his thumb traced soft circles around my nipples, and my hips shifted, pushed down, as I moaned again. He squirmed beneath me, one of his hands leaving my skin, and I heard the sound of his underwear hitting the wall, the noise almost deafening over our ragged breathing in the silence of the room. Goosebumps raced along my flesh, and I let my head drop down against his shoulder as his fingers lightly slid teasingly over and up my thigh.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck, I’m… oh, shit. Oh, God, I’m so sorry!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so. in the end of this chapter, erin and niall attempt to make love but are interrupted by someone barging into the bedroom. it’s nothing super explicit but definitely mature.


	29. twenty-nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember: more adult themes in this chapter, too! it's actual sex, so... avoid if you want. smut starts after _"Yeah, it was."_, and the non-smut part starts at _"That... was so fucking amazing."_ if you wanna skip the steamy time. don't worry - this is the last bit of smut for this story. promise.
> 
>   
____________________________________

I buried my face in Niall’s neck, cheeks burning hot. Louis’s interruption had done more than ruin the moment - it had annihilated it with the force of three nuclear bombs; my skin was cold, doused in the sudden lack of arousal. Niall’s hand gripped the blanket, but there was no way he could pull it over us, not now. I was just thankful that all Louis from that angle was my bare back and underwear - and maybe too much of Niall. The door slammed, the sound echoing in the uncomfortable silence; Niall’s face was tomato-red when I finally pulled away to look at him. His shoulders shook, and he burst out laughing. My face screwed up in confusion.

“What’s so funny, Mister Horan?”

“I… I don’t even know.”

“Neither do I. That was embarrassing,” I whined, covering my face with my hands.

“Yeah, it was. I never thought it would happen to me. Liam or Haz, maybe, but not me!”

I laughed quietly at the pout on his face and trailed my fingers lightly over his abdomen, the muscles that rippled beneath my touch. His breath hitched, and I focused on shifting the small patterns downward. He tugged me down into a demanding kiss, one that stole the air from my lungs and exploded sparks behind my eyes. It was almost as if Louis had never barged in on us as we quickly resumed where we’d left off. I gasped when one of his fingers slipped inside of me, his thumb sliding in slow circles against my clit. He grinned against my lips; the warm pool of desire flared up in the bottom of my belly, engulfing every molecule of my being, sending me floating and spinning and craving. I yanked my head back, gasped as the edge neared rapidly. Before I could tumble over, though, we were interrupted again - this time, by a knock on the door. I bit back a curse as Gemma’s voice came through the wood.

“Er, dinner’s ready, you two.”

Niall smirked mischievously and pressed his thumb more insistently to my clit, another finger joining the first. I knew Gemma was waiting for acknowledgement from us and that she probably already knew what Louis had walked in on, so I managed to force out a simple “Okay!” in as even a voice as I could manage. Niall leaned up to kiss my collarbone, removing his hand. I pouted but then bit my lip to stifle the squeal when he rolled us again so that I was on my back. His fingers hooked in the waistband of my underwear, tugged them down my legs until they fell to the floor.

I shivered in the cool air as he stepped away to rummage through the nightstand. Thankfully, he found what he was looking for quickly and came back, an unopened condom in hand. I dragged my nails gently over his stomach as he rolled the condom on, and he trembled before wrapping his hands around my ankles, pulling at my legs until they encircled his waist. He leaned down, mouth soft and sweet against my throat.

“You sure?” he murmured into my skin, and I could do nothing more than nod, too overwhelmed by the sensations and emotions that were swelling up inside of me.

Niall nipped at my jaw, and I hissed at the contrast of the sharp scrape of teeth and the smooth, languid slide of him entering me. My back arched, and I lost myself in the motions of his thrust. A hand slipped between us, the roughness of his thumb pushing me closer to the ledge; the closer I got, the harder I fought it, struggling in vain to delay the inevitable - this was more than I had ever asked for, so much better, and I didn’t want it to end. My body didn’t listen to my brain, instead chased the feeling of weightless and completion and everything I never knew I wanted that Niall alone could give me. His thrusts faltered, and he stilled with his hips pressed tightly to my skin, head dropped back as he panted. Slowly, he pulled away, and I let my body melt into the mattress.

“That… was so fucking amazing.”

“Yeah, it was.” I rolled over to curl against his side once he discarded the used condom into the bathroom trash can. “Do we have to go out there? I just wanna stay here with you.”

“Unfortunately, yes. Food is necessary for existence.”

Neither of us moved for a long moment, too busy catching our breath and sharing lazy kisses. Eventually, though, his stomach growled, reminding us of the fact we hadn’t eaten yet, and he sighed and pressed his lips to my forehead; I fought the urge to grimace at how disgusting and sweaty my skin must have felt under his lips. I watched him walk to his closet, my eyes taking in the sight of so much glorious skin bared completely. He handed me a pair of pyjama pants as I stepped into my underwear. I flashed him a grateful smile; my hair was a lost cause, I knew it, so I pulled it back into a messy bun, thankful that I always had a hair—tie on my wrist. After splashing cold water onto my face, I followed Niall out of the room and into the kitchen. Everybody glanced up from the pizzas in front of them, shooting us knowing looks - except Louis, who was determinedly avoiding eye contact. Thankfully and rather surprisingly, no one said anything in regards to what they _had_ to be aware was going on.

I stared around at the familiar faces to see that the only one missing from our group was Liam; even Zayn had shown up. Niall passed over a plate that had two slices of pepperoni pizza, and I let him guide me to the living room so we could get away from the cheeky grins. My face was hot, flushed, by the time we sat on the couch. He nudged me with his shoulder, crossing his eyes at me when I looked up. I retaliated by very maturely scrunching up my face and sticking my tongue out.

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

Natalie’s face disappeared from the screen of Niall’s laptop, and I yawned again. I was exhausted, but I probably wouldn’t fall asleep any time soon. Though Niall and I had… expended more energy after dinner (he’d made sure to warn the others that disrupting our time together would result in bodily harm), the nap I’d taken after my flight had only allowed me to sleep by his side for a few short hours before I’d woken up, frustrated at the fact that I wasn’t still dreaming. My boyfriend hadn’t even stirred when I’d crawled out of bed to check my messages on his computer, just snored away peacefully. Even during the Skype call with Nat, he stayed completely still and mumbled incoherently in his sleep. I stretched, set the laptop aside, and decided to get something to drink.

Gemma sat at the kitchen table, phone in hand, when I entered the room. I returned her smile and opened the fridge door, staring at the contents inside. Turning around with orange juice in hand, I realised I knew where nothing in this house was kept. She helpfully pointed to a cupboard, and I grabbed a glass with a quiet “Thanks.” I sat beside her once I had my drink.

“Why are you still awake? I figured you and Niall would be dead to the world by now.”

“He is,” I replied with a chuckle. “And I thought so, too, but my body apparently thinks it’s only six at night.”

“Time zones are the worst.”

“Ugh, they _are_. So, um, what about you?”

“I just… can’t sleep, I suppose. Don’t tell Harry, though. He’ll worry if he thinks I’m not getting enough sleep, and a worried Harry is an overbearing Harry.”

I nodded slowly, knowing she was right. Harry was amazing, but when he was concerned, he certainly could nag and pester. I loved him, regardless; it just wasn’t easy to handle when he got like that. We were quiet for a few minutes, and I sipped at the juice and fidgeted in my seat.

“Are you glad you came to surprise Niall?”

“Oh, absolutely. It’s, it’s been great so far.”

“Of course, you two spent at least half the time in bed,” she teased with a lascivious wink.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.”

“Babe, I’m warning you now. If I ever hear you apologise for something stupid like that, I’ll smack you.” She set her phone down and stared at me through the dim gleam of the nightlight plugged into the wall by the stove. “We all knew it would happened. You two are young and in love and have been separated for a while. It was only a matter of time, which Louis, as we found out, is an awful judge of. Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“The first time I’d heard what Niall did to hurt you, as unintentional as it was, then to make it up to you, I… Oh, god, please don’t tell him I’m saying this. I love him to pieces, and I don’t want to fight with him, okay? Anyway. I wondered if it was maybe just his wounded pride. But then, once everything was fixed, he wouldn’t stop talking about you, or so Harry says. I’ve only been here for a few days, so I can’t speak about what happened before, but I’ve had to listen to him prattle on about you, the things you found funny, memories made while touring with your band, and everything that made you so irresistible. Harry would text me _incessantly_, complaining that Niall wouldn’t shut up. I know, I know, why didn’t he just leave, right?” She let out a soft giggle. “I asked him the same thing. He said it was because his flat was too quiet and he didn’t want to be alone, but I know my brother. I know it was to make sure Niall didn’t hurt you again.

“The lads all love you to death, and while they love Niall and he’s one of their closest mates, they’re not the kind of guys who would keep their mouths shut if one of you is screwing up. But Niall has only gone from here to the studio, Nando’s, then back. He’s so far gone for you, and I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you both so happy. You deserve it.”

I cleared the lump from my throat quietly, smiling down at my glass. “Thanks. I _am_ really happy with him. He’s almost too good to be true, y’know? I never thought we’d even be friends, let alone dating.” I drew in a steadying breath. “My turn for confession: I’m scared.”

Her hands wrapped around mine, squeezed comfortingly, and she sighed. “Oh, babe. Everybody gets scared. I’m sure Niall is just as afraid as you are. But it’s how you react to that fear that matters. You can either stay and fight for what you want or you can run away like a coward the moment things go balls up.”

“I’m gonna fight. I love him too much for anything less.”

“Good. Now, it’s almost three in the morning. Go back to bed.”

I hugged her, the tightness in my chest easing as her words imprinted themselves in my brain, and crossed the room to rinse my glass out in the sink. Gemma was already back to scrolling through Instagram as I made my way out of the kitchen, down the hall, and to Niall’s room. He slept on as I slid into the bed. I scooted closer to him and pulls his arm over my waist. It wasn’t long at all before I fell asleep.

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ve got bug eyes or something!”

“No idea what you’re talking about, Bear,” I responded cheekily, biting back my laugh at his exasperation.

“Erin, I swear, I’ll beat you up if you don’t stop staring at me.”

I dissolved into giggles, finally blinking for the first time in several minutes- I’d been staring at him since I sat down next to him in the studio. “One: no, you won’t. Two: I’ll only stop for something in return.”

He sighed, rubbed his fingers into his temple. “What?”

“How serious are things between you and Miss Stefanie?”

“They’re… Why do you even want to know?”

“Because some little birdies told me they caught you two trying to merge into one body.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied quickly - _too_ quickly - and I shrugged.

Within three heartbeats, he caved and told me the truth: Though they’d kept it casual at first, especially after the paparazzi interrupted their date, it hadn’t taken long for something more to build between them. She came back to the UK to do some promotional shooting for an up-and-coming band, and he’d invited her over to watch a movie; now, she could be found at his place whenever she was in town, and he was… thrilled. He explained that she was more outgoing and gave less of a damn about what people thought of her than what he was used to, but he enjoyed her company and hoped they could make the relationship work in the long-term. Since she could choose which jobs she took, it gave her the ability to clear up her schedule, which meant it wasn’t too difficult to have time together.

I was ecstatic that Liam was happy, that Stefanie was happy; my joy over their relationship drowned out any annoyance that she’d never told me. She was the photographer on my first solo tour, so we had spent hours upon hours together - plenty of time to inform me that she was actually dating one of my best friends. I supposed it was a good enough reason to keep it from me, though. Liam had asked hr not to tell me anything about their happiness while I was miserable “pining over Niall”.

I leaned against Liam, rested my head on his shoulder; Niall waved at me from inside the recording booth, and I grinned widely in return. “Bear, I’m glad you’re happy. I really am.”

“Thank you, Strudel. I’m happy you and Niall are finally together and happy, as well.” He paused. I looked up and immediately rolled my eyes at the mischievous smirk on his face. “So what’s this I hear about Louis having absolutely _terrible_ timing?”


	30. thirty

The sunshine peeking through the clouds was almost insulting, too bright and cheery for the day’s events. A cold wind whipped around me, and I pushed my hair from my face. There was no sound from the inside of the house; the street outside was mostly empty save for the occasional passing car. I brushed a hand over Niall’s shoulder, watched as the lint fell away. His hands were cold as they held onto mine.

“Are you _sure_ you have to go?”

I smiled slightly at Niall’s pout. “Yes, babe, I gotta go. Jamie’s already kinda pissed that I stayed an extra week when I’m supposed to be getting ready for the studio.”

“But I want you to stay.”

“I can’t,” I murmured apologetically before stretching up to kiss him.

He sighed against my lips, kissed back, then pulled me in for a tight hug; I could feel him trembling against me, but whether it was the cold or something else, I didn’t know. I buried my face into his neck, sniffling at the tears that were starting to form.

It had been two weeks since I’d shown up unannounced on his doorstep, and having to leave was absolutely awful. He’d convinced me to extend my visit the night before I originally planned to go home, and I hadn’t hesitated ー one week wasn’t enough. In the time I spent with him, we’d become even closer, and we even had a few days to ourselves. We only went out together once; thankfully, we hadn’t been bombarded by fans or paparazzi, which was surprising now that I thought about it, but we preferred to stay in the house, spend time with each other without interruptions. The guys finished with their album by the sixth day of my visit, and now they were gearing up for promotional events and eventually a tour.

Jamie’s phone call at the end of last week had been to tell me of the plans for a few interviews then going into the studio to cut a full-length album; she hadn’t been surprised to hear where I was, what with photos and articles of Niall and I being seen on the streets of London together, but she had sent me an irritated email two days ago, scolding me for not being back when I promised her I would and demanding me to be back in the States by the end of the week. I’d only sent back an image attachment of Niall’s pouting face in response.

It had been amazing, not just being with my boyfriend, but also the break we took from media of all sorts ー no gossip blogs, social media sites, no tabloids and magazines. Just paying attention to each other, learning each other’s bodies, talking and laughing and cuddling. I detested the thought of having to go back to that, but I had a job to do. So I kissed Niall again, hoping he could feel everything I needed him to know, and pulled away reluctantly. Grabbing the handle of my suitcase, I carried it down the sidewalk to the cab that idled by the curb. His voice stopped me before I could slide into the car. I stepped back out, apologising to Paul who had offered to get me to my flight , and waited as Niall disappeared inside.

When he came back out, he was still barefoot, but his shoes were in his hand. He jogged to the SUV and slid into the backseat once I was in. The vehicle pulled away, and I turned to give Niall an inquisitive look. He shrugged, tugged his shoes onto his feet.

“I’m selfish. I wanted more time with you.”

We didn’t speak as the car took us to the airport, and his fingers maintained a steady pressure where they were linked with mine. Paul parked and turned in his seat to smile sadly at me. I’d miss him; he had come by every so often to make sure everything was going well, that we hadn’t murdered each other or been violently killed by a stalker fan. He grabbed my luggage from the back while Niall helped me out of the car. My heart clenched in my chest, tightened even more as we walked toward the entrance to the airport.

Flashes from cameras surrounded us, but I ignored the bright bursts of light as Niall held me close. I closed my eyes against the burning, thankful for Paul and security who stood nearby but still gave us privacy. Niall’s lips pressed softly against the side of my neck; I leaned back and stared up at him. I was desperate to memorise every inch of his face. A scratchy, muddled voice overhead announced my flight, and I reached up to cup my boyfriend’s cheeks with my hands. My voice trembled when I finally managed to say something.

“Holy fuck, I love you so much.”

“I hate goodbyes.” He caught my lips in a tender kiss; the clicking and flashing increased at the sight, and I wanted so bad to flip them off, to curse every one of them out for using this moment as fodder, but I forced myself to focus on the taste and feel of Niall. “I love you, too. Call me when you land, all right?”

“I promise.”

I let my hands drop from his face, turned on my heel. I grabbed my suitcase and headed through the security checkpoint. After I slipped my shoes back onto my feet, I glanced over my shoulder. Niall still stood in the same spot, hands in his pocket; he shot me a tremulous smile, and I hit my lip and waved. My heart yearned to go back, for me to find my place in his arms again ー where I belonged. Being with him was easy as breathing, and every molecule of my body wanted to stay. Instead, I continued forward to the gate.

The flight attendant handed back my passport and ticket with a wide grin, and I took a step forward. Someone shouting my name caused me to turn around, and I stepped aside to let the other passengers board while I caught sight of my boyfriend. He’d pushed as close to the checkpoint as he could without being reprimanded or forcibly removed.

“I love you!”

I laughed shakily, pressed trembling fingers to my lips, blew him a kiss. “I love you, too,” I called back, and his responding grin eased some of the aching in my chest.

The flight attendant patted my arm as I passed, finally boarding. I found my seat, stowed my carry-on, and curled up in the chair. Dozens of people moved around out on the tarmac as planes arrived and departed; I wiped the dampness off my cheeks and shifted so I could buckle my belt. The woman from the terminal passed by, double-checking that we were all buckled in, and she discreetly handed me a few tissues. I nodded in thanks, dabbing at my eyes. The seats to either side of me were empty, and I stared at the fabric of the chairs; I hadn’t felt this lonely in a long time.

Take-off was relatively smooth, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d left my heart behind. I stared out the window, eyes unseeing, as my fellow flyers nodded off or watched the provided movie. Leaving Niall… it was difficult, more difficult than anything I’d done before, but I was perversely glad that he appeared to be struggling as much as I had to let me go. It helped to alleviate the fears that I was more invested in the relationship than he was.

Michelle, the flight attendant from the beginning of the flight, helped me grab my suitcase from the overhead compartment and motioned me toward the front of the aircraft. The other passengers had already deboarded, only a couple of stragglers still shambling down the aisle. I exited the terminal slowly, still tired and unwilling to admit my time with Niall was over.

A large cluster of people waited just beyond the terminal. Most of them were reporters and their cameras, already flashing away; I scrubbed a hand over my eyes and kept walking forward. Just over the shoulder of one of the paps, I saw a familiar face, and no matter how badly I felt, it was almost easy to push it aside at the sight of my mother’s face. I pushed through the group to launch myself at her, hugging her tightly.

“Oh, honey, I’ve missed you.”

Her voice shook, and I accepted the fact that I was crying, even as I said, “I love you, too, Mommy. Can we go home?”

“Of course, baby. C’mon.”

The paparazzi shouted out questions as we walked by, but I was too tired to answer anything. My mom steered me through the automatic doors and out to the car park. On the drive home, she told me about how she couldn’t go anywhere in the high school without hearing something along the lines of “Eriall is my OTP!”, people asking her about my relationship with Niall every time she went out in public (and whether he was going to be her son-in-law soon), and how Patrick had gotten a job as an attorney downtown.

“Is he still there, then?” I muttered sleepily.

“Yes, he is,” she sighed. “He’s trying, Erin.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She reached for my hand over the console, squeezing gently. “So, how was visiting Niall?”

By the time I finished telling her what all we had done ー minus the sex; what mother would possibly want details of her daughter’s bedroom activities? ー we’d arrived at the house. My mom smacked at my hand when I started to grab for my suitcase; I threw my hands up, rolling my eyes, and made my way up the sidewalk to the front door. I flopped down onto my bed face-first, and she set my luggage down with a laugh before kissing my forehead and leaving me alone.

**.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**

Two days later found me lying in the hammock with a notebook leaned up against my legs. I snapped a photo of my face in a pout with Snapchat, captioned it _I’ve missed the warmth, but I miss you more_, and sent it off to Niall. Once that was done, I pulled my pen from behind my ear and tapped it against my chin. I couldn’t seem to find the right words to say ー and the irony of the situation was not lost on me; what kind of songwriter couldn’t write something stemming from their emotions? I should not have been stuck on the writing process, but… I was. I’d only written four words in almost two hours. I had given up and started playing Flappy Bird on my phone, failing in my attempt of beating my high score of 8. My phone vibrated against my belly, and I scooped it up.

**From: Lambchop** _I have to tell you something…_

**To: Lambchop** _You better not be pregnant, bish_

**From: Lambchop** _What????_  
**From: Lambchop** _Of course I’m not. Who would even be the father???___  
**From: Lambchop** _Wtf, Erin_

**To: Lambchop** _Uh… Brett??_

**From: Lambchop** _Uh… no!!_

**To: Lambchop** _Damn. I was hoping to be godmommy. :( _

**From: Lambchop** _YOU LITERALLY JUST TOLD ME I BETTER NOT BE PREGNANT_  
**From: Lambchop** _NOW YOURE SAYING YOURE DISAPPOINTED THAT YOU WONT BE GODMOMMY?!???! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU_  
**From: Lambchop** _Idiot. Can I come over?_

**To: Lambchop** _I’m naked_

**From: Lambchop** _No you’re not_

**To: Lambchop** _How the eff would you know??_

**From: Lambchop** _Because I’m looking right at you, dumbass_

I glanced around to see that she was, indeed, staring at me over the fence. I rolled my eyes and waved her over, unable to stop my smile. Amber pushed through the gate, locked it behind her, and ran across the yard to clamber up beside me. I squealed when the hammock threatened to overturn with the sudden addition of her weight, and her knee hit my gut as she settled in. Once the hammock was still again, she grinned.

“Hi.”

“Why bother asking to come over if you’re already here?”

“Uh, I’m being considerate? Duh.”

I stared at her incredulously, mouth agape. “You, but, that doesn’t… oh, whatever. What’s up?”

“Well, I wanted to make sure it was more than a fling, and I’ve been waiting for you and Niall to realise how disgustingly in love with each other that you are, so… here I am.” She rested her head on my shoulder, arm draping over my belly, and took a deep breath. “Brett and I are dating, and we have been for a while. It started shortly after the funeral, but we didn’t make it official until you were recording your EP.”

“He’s the guy you went on a date with?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. Wonder how I didn’t see _that_ coming.”

She jerked back, scowled. “You’re being sarcastic!”

“No shit! You guys weren’t very surreptitious about it at my birthday party.”

“So why didn’t you say anything then?” she asked as her brows furrowed and her head cocked.

“Because I figured you’d tell me in your own way.” I shrugged and picked at a hangnail. “If it makes you feel any better, I totally approve.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe now you guys won’t be at each other’s throats if you’re always in bed.”

I screamed when she shoved me off the hammock, landing on the ground roughly with a grunt. Grass got in my mouth as I laughed and wheezed, but I couldn’t care less ー it was totally worth it.

The floorboard in the hall creaked, and I stilled, pen nib coming to a stop on the paper. A door closed with a soft click; I let out a sigh of relief and continued writing. Eventually, I ran out of words, nothing more to say, and set my pen down to reread the letter I’d been writing ー or rather, attempting to write ー all day. With a quiet cheer, since it was the middle of the night, I dropped my notebook onto the bed next to me. My shoulders and neck ached fiercely, and there was a steady, painful cramp in my right hand from having used it consistently for the past two and a half hours. The screen of my phone lit up, the third time in fifteen minutes, and I chuckled as I picked it up to respond to Niall’s texts. I’d told him of my plans to write the letter, and he had been supportive of the decision.

_Patrick -_   
_I’m sorry for making the past few months difficult on you. It wasn’t fair to you for me to be such a… a bitch. I was being a bitch. No other way to put it. It’s not much of an excuse, but you flipped my world upside down when you came back so suddenly after so many years. I got used to not having you around over those 14 years you were gone. So you just… popping back into our lives like that, it fucked everything up. My life was already enough of a mess after Jem’s death. I couldn’t seem to get a firm grip on reality. And… I didn’t want to forgive you._

_I didn’t. I wanted to go on hating you. I wanted to hate you for the rest of my life because it was easier than accepting that it wasn’t hate I felt. I’ve been struggling with the anger, hurt, betrayal… but it wasn’t ever hate. Well, I hated your actions, what you did to me and Mom, but I didn’t hate you. Gods, but I wished I could. I needed you. I fucking NEEDED you, to be around, to help me grow, to teach me the right kind of guy to fall in love with. I guess in a way, you did. You taught me the kind of guy who didn’t deserve my love. You made me grow up fast the night you left. It wasn’t long before I realised that life isn’t a goddamn fairy tale. Not everything is rainbows and unicorns and glittery butterflies. You broke my heart. You destroyed all of my 5-year-old self’s expectations and ideas of “happily ever after”. I couldn’t believe in that shit any more after having watched the king I idolised leaving the castle he’d promised to protect forever, not once looking back at the princess who was screaming for him to not go, to come back and be a family, to love her as much as she loved him. The king ー you ー didn’t even care that the queen and princess were now all alone, struggling to make sense of how they went from one big, happy, royal family to broken, beaten peasants in a few short hours. It was… difficult, to say the least._

_Mom told me not too long ago that you were trying. Trying to prove you’ve changed, that you regret what you did to us. My first thought was “good, maybe it’ll tear him up to not have us like it did ya when he left.” My heart, though… well, it wanted me to forgive you immediately. It wanted me to let you in. But I didn’t want to get hurt again. So I ignored my heart. I allowed myself to keep you at a distance so you had no chance of hurting me when, if, you decided to leave again. But then you said you’d keep Niall away after what he did because that’s what I wanted. You tried cheering me the way a father is always supposed to: with wise words and open arms. You supported my choice to get back into music, and you went to my first solo show, even making a fool of yourself by cheering so loudly that people outside on the sidewalk heard you as if you were standing next to them. But you did it for me._

_You let me into your life, your heart, with no reservations. You knew it would be hard, but you still put the effort into rebuilding my trust in you. You told me about the places you’ve been, things you’ve seen, your family. You were even honest about the siblings I have, although they were part of the reason you left us. And as much as you did to prove you’re a different man now, I still wouldn’t open up to you._

_I guess the whole point of this is to say… I’m sorry. I forgive you. I really do. _

_I love you, Dad._

I tore the pages from the notebook as quietly as I could, folded them neatly, and tiptoed through the dark and silent house to where Patrick’s briefcase sat by the front door. After placing the letter under the handle, I hurried back upstairs to my bedroom. Sleep wasted no time in claiming me.

I awoke to sunlight streaming through the window to land directly on my face. Groaning, I rolled over and blinked away the bright spots dancing in my vision. A lime green Post-It note sat on my nightstand, folded in an upside-down V atop my phone screen. I rubbed sleep from my eyes and stretched, yawning widely, before grabbing the note. On it were eight words ー eight simple words that meant the world to me and brought tears to my eyes.

_Thank you. I love you, pumpkin. Love, Dad. _


	31. thirty-one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well... this is it. the final chapter of this story. it makes me sad to say that, _**but**_ never fear - i’m currently working on its sequel!
> 
> i want to give a huge thank you to all of you who’ve read this story, but an especially enormous shoutout to Phoenixx90 for all the amazing comments they’ve left. i almost don’t want to post this chapter because it’s the end and that means nothing new until the sequel is done! lol
> 
> if you’d like to keep in touch with me at all, i can be found at quotev as unnknown13, or tumblr as unn--known (:

“No! You two can’t Skype each other right now! What the Hell are you _thinking_?”

I giggle at Amber’s outburst and shove her hand away from the front-facing camera on my phone. “Shut up, idiot, what the hell!” Still laughing, I avert my gaze to the person on the other end of the video call. “Sorry, babe, but according to this… very, very excitable best friend of mine, we aren’t allowed to Skype.”

“Dude,” whined Amber, “you know the rule. Now say goodnight to your lover, because I wanna get white girl wasted.”

Niall’s chuckle is clear even over my best friend’s theatrics, and I smile widely at him. “I understand, trust me. Why do you think I’m hiding in the loo instead of being out in the other room - no, Louis, go! I’m using the toilet! Shit,” he hisses, bringing his phone up closer to his face. “I gotta go, I think Lou’s figured out I’m not _actually_ using the toilet. I love you, and I will absolutely see you tomorrow.”

I barely manage to get out an “I love you, too” before his side of the call goes wonky, the video blurring and audio going staticky. Liam’s face appears, and then he and his smug grin disappear as the call ends. I pout at the abrupt disconnection but don’t get long to dwell before Natalie and Delia are barrelling into the room; Stefanie follows at a much more leisurely pace, and she hands me a flat box wrapped in sparkly paper. I give her a confused look and open it at her insistence; inside, resting on the velvet, is a plastic “diamond” tiara. I laugh out loud when I see that the twists and curves of the plastic are actually phallic in nature.

As we finish getting ready for the night ahead, my mind wanders to all the changes that have happened in the last two years. My parents remarried around seven months after the letter I wrote to Pat- my dad. While they were off in their newly-wedded-again bliss, sipping mai tais and getting sunburnt, amber and I had moved into a lovely two-bedroom apartment she’d found; Brett moved in shortly after, but it wasn’t as weird or uncomfortable as I thought it might be. At least they can be quiet. And they didn’t put me in the middle when they went through a rough patch and considered breaking up, which is great. What’s even better is they started couple’s counselling and are stronger than ever.

Niall and I have been together the entire time, and surprisingly enough, it’s been… not quite easy, because relationships never are, especially when distance and busy schedules are very important factors. But while it’s been rough at times, I’ve also been the happiest I can ever remember being. Sure, not seeing each other in person for months sucks - Skype calls and photos are amazing, but they will never add up to the real thing. Regardless, I wouldn’t change our lives for anything. He has been my rock, my solid port in the storm, every single day. I can never thank him enough for that; all I can do is show him for the rest of our lives just how much I love him.

Alan and Jaz, I was sad to see them separate. Alan was so happy with her, and of course, that’s all I have ever wanted for him. He still hasn’t told any of us the reason _why_ they broke up, and we aren’t asking. We’ve just accepted that it is what it is and supported him in his efforts to be complete with himself. Last I heard, Jaz is married to a doctor now.

I swipe on a pale pink shimmering lip gloss, fluff up the curls Amber spent an hour putting in my hair, and shriek when a hand plunks the tiara roughly onto the top of my head. Natalie laughs and hooks and arm around my neck, practically dragging me out of the apartment. Though three out of four of us are still famous (even though Silent Playground went on hiatus two years ago, Nat and DeDe get recognised on a regular basis), we decide to let loose without the accompaniment of our bodyguards; I can only pray that Bryan and Rick don’t choose to kill us in cold blood for this choice. Someone’s already called for a taxi, and the van is waiting by the curb by the time we reach the foyer of the building. We quickly slide into the backseat, buckle up without hesitation or protest at Delia’s stern glare.

A hand grips onto my upper arm, and I glance up at DeDe, grinning drunkenly. She motions that it’s time to go, and I frown. I’ve been having loads of fun watching the damn-near-naked men dancing provocatively in front of us for the bills in our hands. Our other friends are already standing in a small cluster, swaying into each other with the amount of alcohol they’ve imbibed. I look down at my phone’s screen, squint when the numbers blur into each other; midnight. I sigh and toss my last twenty onto the stage, and Delia leads me to the doors with the rest of our group.

She’s the only one sober - or at least, the closest to it - so she takes charge, ushering us into the van, and gives the cabbie my address. Once we arrive, I stumble up the front steps and down the hall to the elevator. Neither Natalie nor Amber are helpful in keeping me upright, since they’re as drunk as I am. Stefanie is too busy laughing at our unsteadiness to care much about the fact that each time I take a step, I nearly fall on my face. We all collapse onto the sofa and armchairs in a fit of giggles. Somewhere in the back of my mind is the free-floating thought that my neighbours are probably getting irritated with the noise and wil most likely tell me all about it tomorrow, but I am far too inebriated to give a damn.

Suddenly, I sit up straight and hiccup as I search through my pockets for my phone; I find it fifteen minutes later in the bottom of my purse. My fingers somehow locate the number I want, and I let out a small belch and shush the girls. Loudly. Their giggles do nothing but remind me that logic really isn’t my forte when liquor is in my system. The call goes to voicemail after five rings.

“Guys, shhhh, it’s ringing - oh, wait. Voicemail. Boo. C’mon, Niall, why don’t you _answer_? It’s me! Oh, well. Anyway. I have something really, really, really, really, really important to tell you. If I don’t tell you now, I-I-I-, I might explode! Yeah, that’s what will happen! I’ll explode, and it’ll be gross, and then you’ll be sad be-because I’m all exploded. Niall. I am, I am so fucking in love with you, I am! You’ve made so increbidly happy the past three years, and I… I can’t live without you. I can’t.” I sniffle, and Amber wraps herself around me as I start crying harder. I don’t understand it; I was literally just so happy, so why am I crying now? I shake my head and swallow thickly. “I love you. I do. I don’t want to think about you not being in my life. If you’re not there… fuck. Niall James Horan, will you marry me? I love you. Hope you’re having fun with the guys! Send my love to my brothers. Kisses and hugs since you’re not here for me to actually kiss and hug you -”

“And do _loads_ more to!” Natalie shouts with a gleeful cackle, and I wave my hand inelegantly in her direction. “Don’t shush me, you whore! Niall needs to know how much you wanna fuuuuu-”

Thankfully, Delia’s slapped her hand over Nat’s mouth so her words can no longer be heard, and I giggle, fall off the couch. Everyone bursts out into even harder laughter, and I sit up, pouting, and rub my elbow. Stefanie helps tug me to my feet and steers me to the bathroom. I stand in the doorway staring at the toilet for a long moment, before she sighs and tells me to pee so I don’t end up pissing the bed. Someone shouts that I’m an idiot from the living room, and I flip whoever it is off and do as told. I fall face-first onto my bed, wiggle until I’m on my side, and close my eyes.

I’m utterly exhausted now that the apartment is quiet, but I can’t fall asleep. I lie awake for what feels like hours, staring at the wall. My mind replays everything that’s happened between Niall and me during the last few years.

I met his mother shortly following the guys’ release of their album _Midnight Memories_. It didn’t take much time after that that I met his brother, sister-in-law, and baby nephew. They all made me feel so welcome; Maura had asked so many questions about myself, told me how glad she was that Niall met me, and even asked when she’d get a grandchild from us. That had caused Niall to blush furiously and beg her to stop being so embarrassing. I’d never enjoyed meeting new people nearly that much in my entire life. My dad had pulled Niall aside once we got back to the house, he hadn’t even waited for us to unpack from the flight; Niall came to bed with a look of genuine fear in his eyes. He still won’t tell me what Dad said to make him so afraid. He claims, to this day, that it was only a “friendly chat”.

It’s so hard to believe that _this_ is my life. I’m a well-known musician, dating a (or rather, the best) member of an internationally-renowned boyband, “adopted” by two of the other members (Liam and Zayn had even held a ceremony of sorts to claim me as their sister - otherwise known as we just sat around the living room, drank a few pints, and lit some candles while they chanted nonsensically over me), best friends with two amazing bands, with a girl who’s become a sister to me through all our years of friendship, and about to have the rest of my life dramatically changed tomorrow. It’s a wonderful life, and I’ll always be in shock that it’s mine.

Nerves suddenly seize me, dispelling what drunken fog remains cloaking my brain. I smile giddily into the dark. Though it’s been in the workds for almost a year, it never fails to make me happier than I ever thought possible. My fingers find the beautiful ring that’s taken up residence on my left hand’s third finger. Eleven months ago, Niall had convinced me to get on a flight to London and taken me to the restaurant where we’d first met. He waited until we were finished eating then reached across the table. His hands trembled slightly when they wrapped around mine, but I never got the question out before he spoke.

“Erin Why-Don’t-You-Have-a-Middle-Name McCarty, I… I could never thank you enough for forgiving me, for giving me another chance, for loving me like you do. I will never be able to tell you exactly how much I love you. You are my absolute everything, and my life would be meaningless if you ever left me. So, er, please don’t?” he shot me a nervous smile; I squeezed his hands reassuringly, and it seemed to be enough, because he inhaled shakily and continued, “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So will you please make me the luckiest, happiest guy in the world by marrying me?”

I’d frozen, tears in my eyes. Was he really proposing to me? My mind raced, my heart beat violently against my ribs, and I could barely breathe. His grin, so full of hope and promise, started to slip at my lack of response. My brain snapped into actually working, and I rushed to answer.

“Yes. Oh, fucking Hell, Niall, yes!”

Amids applause from the other patrons, he slipped the ring onto my finger and dragged me to my feet. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, pressed my lips to his. I didn’t even care that people were now taking pictures of our moment. I didn’t care about anything other than the fact that I was now engaged to the most amazing man I would ever know in my life.

The planning has gone rather smoothly. We’ve known from the start who our bridesmaids and groomsmen are. With the help of my mom and Maura, everything else just… fell into place. Finding a dress was the hardest part; between my schedule with recording and touring, it just wasn’t easy to waltz right into a bridal shop and pick one. But I’d found one after a few months of scouring the internet, and after that, it’s been a matter of waiting until I can wear it. My nerves melt away, replaced by butterflies of excitement as I look forward to the next chapter of my life. I haven’t even turned twenty-two yet, but I’ve already found the man I want - no, _need_ \- to spend the rest of my life with. We’ve had our fair share of comments that our relationship, and engagement, would be another “Oh, this is forever! Oh, wait, it’s over!” love story, but I have worked my ass off with Niall to prove them wrong. And I will continue to prove them wrong, because he’s my everything.

I roll over in bed, close my eyes, and force myself to inhale deeply and evenly. It’s already one o’clock in the morning, and we all have to be up early in the morning. Tomorrow, I marry the love of my life. Tomorrow, I say “I do” and become Mrs Niall James Horan. And all I have to do is get through to tomorrow.


End file.
